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Tag Archives: Caedmon's Call

  • The Mysterious Apology of Derek Webb

    Posted on September 30, 2013 by John van der Veen



    What is an a apology these days?  We are all guilty of cheapening the phrase "I'm sorry." We say it a lot. A lot a lot.

    So what does it mean to be really sorry for something? And how do we go about in reconciling the wrong that was made? Some of us would tend to try to sweep our past mistakes under a rug and have them forgotten. But truth-be-told, they have to be dealt with. This is not just that that humans can reconcile with each other, but it's so that it shows a much greater story of forgiveness. Namely forgiveness found in God showing grace and mercy to wretched humans. Showing forgiveness.

    But the question remains. How do we apologize to each other? How do we seek forgiveness in the relationships that we have? Derek Webb is attempting to answer these questions and many more. His new album, I Was Wrong, I'm Sorry & I Love You shows a vulnerable side to this man. For many would call him a cynic, or a stone-thrower, or a I'm-going-to-make-my-art-and-I-don't-care-who-I-hurt-or-step-on-or-push-in-the-process type of artist.

    I sat down with Mr. Webb over a cup of coffee after we enjoyed a great meal. I mention this because it's important to point out that a meal was shared. This meeting was intentional. Not just for an interview with a large retailer, but truly to make a statement on Derek's part.    A statement that says "I'm sorry" or "I was wrong" or "I really do love you guys."

    [Spaced throughout this blog post, there are live, acoustic version of the songs from I Was Wrong, I'm Sorry & I Love You]

    John: I think the biggest question that we need to start with, Derek, is: What are you sorry for?

    Derek: What am I sorry for? I need to start by saying that growing up, I always heard that the three things you had to learn to say to anybody to keep a relationship going were, "I was wrong, I'm sorry, and I love you." Those were the three things you had to learn how to say in a marriage, in a church, in a family, in a business relationship. Coming out of the last five years for me, creatively, from Stockholm Syndrome to Feedback to SOLA-MI to Ctrl, It's been a really experimental, very abstract, three, four, or five years that I think have been pretty challenging to my people.

    It just felt like here at the 10-year mark for my solo career, it felt like the right moment, not to restate anything, but to clarify. I've never felt the burden of having to restate anything I've said previously to justify saying new things. I think that's been challenging for some people, because they'll hear me say things that seem in contradiction with things I've said previously. So they assume I don't believe those things anymore.

    The rule should be that I'm always building upon whatever I've said previously. I started with She Must and Shall Go Free and I've moved out from there. Unless you hear me clearly recant something I have said previously, assume I still believe it, even if it seems complicated in light of what I'm saying currently.

    I realize you can't only agitate people. You have to also make sure that you're resonating with people, too. I feel like I have been really erring on the side of doing the part of my job that involves trying to find creative ways to disrupt peoples' ideas. I have to balance that with saying things that resonate with them, not just poking at people and not just questioning. I need to allow myself a moment for some encouragement and for some hope. There's been a lack of that for the last five years or so.

    I don't like to go back. I like to go forward. But this did feel like a moment to clarify and say, "Whatever it is you've heard me say over the last 10 years, 20 years even, let me clarify and give you the context of why I was saying it or what I would hope to have communicated." The posture from which I've tried to say it is being open to being wrong, asking for forgiveness, and communicating love and care.

    That is the motivation behind anything I've ever done. It's less of a specific apology and more the modeling of a posture of this is how we do this, this is how we, as diverse members of one body, survive in a room together and build a kingdom together. We have to learn how to tell each other that we're sorry and that we're wrong and that we love each other. That's hard work, but that's what it is.

    John: When you left Caedmon's Call, do you think you set out to start poking fingers?

    Derek: I don't feel like I knew enough about myself as an artist to have been terribly intentional about that. When I left Caedmon's, the band was putting out a record maybe every 18 months or 2 years. I was writing half of every one of those records, five or six songs every eighteen months. That's just not enough to really find your voice yet. It was enough to educate myself in the craft a little bit in terms of songwriting, but I didn't know who I was as an artist.

    That's why I've been so grateful for my first record. We've just crossed the 10-year anniversary of that album, and I toured as a celebration of it. I realized what a kind of prophetic statement that record was for the rest of my career. It had songs like "Wedding Dress" on it, which made it a really complicated fit into the market. But for me, it was really honest and felt really important and it was hyper-confessional.

    My conscience was very clear in terms of putting the song on that album. I had the support of my pastor, who knows me, my wife, my friends. I asked questions like, "Is this cavalier, or could this be helpful? This is a hard word, but do you think it's worth it?" Everybody resoundingly said, "Yes. We support you. We think you should. We know it's going to be hard, but you should do this."

    I could not have known the trajectory of my career was that I was going to become known for that. I didn't know I was going to find myself as one that was really wired to do that: looking for the bits that need discussion I didn't know I would be in this fortunate position, coming out of 10 years in a really successful band, bringing support with me. It gave me a really unlikely strength as a debut artist.

    She Must and Shall Go Free is an unlikely debut record. Any debut artist's first record out of the gate would have gotten dropped after that. But because I had this incredible support coming out of Caedmon's, I was able to push it through. Then I was able to move on from there.

    Caedmon's started that way. We wanted to be disruptive. We wanted to say hard things to people and challenge the status quo. We were young, but that's what we were in it for. After a few years, as we started to get successful at it, we became our own worst enemies.

    The two worst things for an artist are success and failure, and especially in that order. For us, we did really well really early. Then the things we never wanted in the first place, we weren't getting anymore in terms of industry accolades. It made it really hard to not want to put our hands on the controls and start to tinker with it, manipulate it a little bit.

    What happens is, as you get further into it and you have that success at it, the platform just gets higher. You're out in front of more people and the platform gets higher. After a while, your full-time job is working on the platform, strengthening it, being careful with it, and making sure it is steady. You're either working on your platform or you're standing on it, and you just can't do both. For us, we wound up getting off the platform, securing it, working on it, building on it and trying to make it steady.

    The higher it gets, the higher the stakes get, and the less likely it gets that you're ever going to get up on top of it. For me, the trajectory for my career has been like a cycle of self-sabotage. I have tried to protect my career against big moments of success. I don't want them. When the label says, "Go do this thing, because it's going to open it up, and you're going to get discovered, and it's going to be this thing, you're going to sell a million records," I will not do it. I will do everything I can to sabotage it.

    Any time the label has thought I had a big song for radio, I will produce it in a way that sabotages it to make sure they cannot put it on the radio, because I don't want that. I've had that and I know what happens. My goal is to stay low to the ground. I don't want to get very high, not in front of very many people. I want to stay low to the ground so that if I get knocked off, I can get back on fast.

    The platform exists so I can build it back really fast. I want to be tenacious and I want to be able to be faithful. Success and faithfulness are two different things, and it's good to learn the distinction. For me, I don't want to have the high platform. I want the low platform. If I sold a half-million records next year, my career would be over. I'd be miserable. I want to find who resonates with my particular point of view, and how can I really faithfully provide language for them to confess things they wish to believe?

    John: What if you found a half-million people that resonated with that?

    Derek: There could be a half-million people out there who resonate with what I do, but I don't want them if they come in any less than 10 years. I want it to take me 10 years to find them. If they all come in overnight, then that's not good news. That's bad. I've seen it too many times.

    John: On She Must and Shall Go Free, the song "Wedding Dress" uses the word "whore." You would not necessarily attach that word to the church, although in honesty, that is who we are.

    Derek: That's who we are told we are in Ezekiel and Isaiah.

    John: Absolutely.

    Derek: With much harsher language than what's in "Wedding Dress."

    John: So you were being very kind to us?

    Derek: I can make people blush with "Wedding Dress," but I can clear a room with Ezekiel 16.

    John: Were you not setting yourself up to be within the four walls of the church, saying, "Hey, there are issues here."

    Derek: Yes.

    John: You're essentially saying, "You're looking at some sort of lofty expression of who you think you will become one day, or you're turning into this bubblegum Christian." How did you decide to start moving within that realm, but yet at the same time, attempt to reach out to those outside of the four walls of the church?

    Derek: In Caedmon's, I was always the least comfortable one out of the seven of us when we would play at a church. I was always the one that was like, "Man, isn't there a neutral venue in this town? Do we have to play in place where the building itself alienates people? Why can't we be in a normal place where people come and hear music that has no worldview prerequisite to walk in the door, that has no physical structure to it that draws in memories for people of ways they've been wounded?"

    I never imagined being a solo artist. All through my life, I've been playing music. And I have always loved collaborating. I've always loved being in bands. I've always loved being somebody's guitar player or somebody's background singer. If I ever did think about what I'd do, I definitely thought I would escape, I'd move out of the ghetto, like I don't want to stay in Christian music or whatever.

    I don't believe in Christian music. The word Christian, when it applied to anything other than a human being, is a marketing term. But when I was writing the songs that led to my first record, I realized I had a lot of questions about if church was necessary. Do I have to go to church? Is church a necessary part of this experience? If it is, what's my role in the church, and what's the church's role in this culture? How does all this work?

    I have a lot of questions after 10 years in Caedmon's. I think we had been really careful not to bite down too hard on the hand that was feeding us for a lot of those years. I think what finally turned the corner was when I got married and felt a little stronger, a little braver. I started to write songs that really were going after what I was seeing, thinking, "Why is nobody talking about this? Everybody knows about this and nobody's talking about this. Why?"

    The band's reputation couldn't bear that at that point, and they were rightfully protective, I think, of what they were building. But they also thought my new songs were important. They wanted me to play and record them. They knew that there's no way I could do it and still be in Caedmon's. That was too demanding.

    It felt more like them sending me out. It wasn't like a nasty division. They're still some of my dearest friends in my life. They always have been. I was surprised as anybody when that batch of songs I had at that moment were all very much about the church.

    I had always imagined that if I got a record deal on my own, I would go and do it with a normal mainstream company. Then here I am, sitting on a record full of songs about the church. I thought, "This is exactly what some people call Christian record labels do best." It didn't make sense to go outside of the Christian world and then market it back in.

    I wanted to be a voice from the inside. I had spent 10 years in Caedmon's, so that seemed subversive to me in a way that I thought was good. That's when I started my relationship with (then INO Records and now) Fair Trade.

    I've seen my friends, who have really good, healthy, disruptive things to say—I've seen them push too hard, too fast, for too long and get relegated to having to do that from the outside. I'm not interested in that. I would like to stay, because I am in this community. I am a member of the church.

    Even though I feel like over the years I've had things to say that didn't squarely speak to that community only, the fingerprints of my worldview are all over the art that I make regardless of my intention. It's the grid through which I'm looking at the world. My faith in Jesus is on everything, regardless of whether it's an intentionally Christian record or not.

    John: Going back to what you were talking about earlier: You would then say there's never been a point in time where you regretted what you said previously.

    Derek: No. Not at all. I'm really proud of all the work that I've done, and I'm really proud of all the risks that I've taken.

    John: Do you think, within the context of what you've done in the last 10 years as a solo artist, that you have stayed within the four walls of the church because there have been alliances with individuals or organizations that are loosely related to mainstream Christendom?

    Derek: Yes.

    John: Do you feel that even during those times, you were still within the very core of what being a follower of Jesus is?

    Derek: I personally do, but I have a unique perspective on this.

    John: I'm sure you do. (Laughs)

    Derek: I feel very much like a double agent in that regard. I think what people wouldn't guess about me is that I am probably more theologically conservative than the most conservative of my crowd. I've also wanted to err on the side of recklessly over-loving than fearfully under-loving people. For that reason, I think I have appeared very much on the exterior like some one of these Christian liberals, one of these Christian hipsters. I don't know what you call these people now.

    John: I don't know, either.

    Derek: Whatever it is, I've been called it all. I don't identify at all with that. I understand how they get there. I just know it's not true. But I'm also more than willing to be misunderstood if it means doing my job well. My job is not to be perceived correctly by some anonymous group of people on the Internet who demand answers from me and want me to clarify my beliefs on things to justify statements that I made. I am not beholden to them. It's not that I don't care in a way that's unfeeling; it just does not influence the decisions I make when I know what the important decisions are.

    I'm not interested in drawing lines and speaking in categories, but if people are going to do it, I want to find myself standing where I believe Jesus would have stood. That is on the side of the disenfranchised, the alienated, the oppressed, the under-loved, the complicated.

    Jesus recklessly over-loved people with no regard for His reputation. That is a model I'm trying to follow. As a result, I think I've gotten broadly painted a handful of different ways, and none of it really bothers me. It actually kind of makes me feel like I'm doing my job. When I go to particular festivals or conferences, the people who are bringing me don't know that they have secretly invited a staunch theological conservative. I'm happy to be the sheep in wolves' clothing, but I think there's been a real disconnect, mostly because these are no conversations. I'm not willing to try and give a simple answer to a question for which there's no simple answer. That is very much against the grain at this point in culture. Everybody wants simple answers. They want something you can sum up in 140 characters. They want you to give an answer publicly for things that don't have good public answers because of the way information is taken out of context and spread around.

    If anybody wants to stay after a show, talk to me for an hour and question me on things they heard me say that they don't think squares with things I've said previously or things that they think that I believe, I will stay for that hour. But I will not make those statements on the Internet, for instance.

    I have no responsibility to those people who demand answers, these nameless, faceless people on the Internet, who demand an answer because what I'm saying makes them uncomfortable. I don't have to give them one, and I'm not going to, not if it takes me out of the role of being able to do my job well.

    John: Someone once told me that a good artist is a stubborn artist. Are you stubborn?

    Derek: Oh, yeah. Do you have that sense yet? I'm tenacious and I'm stubborn.

    I barely got out of high school, so I've always had a chip on my shoulder about my education. I've put myself through seminary over the years with a lot of mentors and a lot of books. I used to love to debate after shows. I loved it too much. My most dense years of theological study were also my most dramatically unloving years. I loved really poorly during those years when I was so closely studying the Bible. I don't do that anymore. There are much more important things to me.

    If what you believe about God and about people does not eventually inform how you love and treat people in God, then it's doing you a real disservice. You're probably a ringing cymbal or a clanging gong if your theology does not ever become ethics. For a long time, my belief was not informing my behavior. I was being really unloving and loving the fight, because I'm a fighter. But I don't love the fight anymore. People have to be more important than ideas at the end of the day.

    Yes, I'm stubborn, but I'm much more interested in the points of unity now than I am over the points of division. I used to really have an eye for those points of division. I wanted to get all into that, get all into the history of it, and get into why I know more about what you're saying than you do. Now I have a lot of grief and regret about who I was for a lot of years and how I treated people and what an unbelievably confusing witness it was to the things that I was trying to convince them of at the time.

    John: Does that then correlate with the apology side of it?

    Derek: Yeah, but only to some extent, because I feel like I've been trying to say that for a long time. I could take you through every record and show you.

    John: Is that what these last four records have been?

    Derek: For example, a song like, "I Don't Want to Fight" on The Ringing Bell was basically the result of this experience. I played a show one time, and a group of guys came up to me and said something about, "Yeah, man, we've seen concerts at this church before, and these people are crazy and their theology is this, that, and the other, and we came here just to see you get up there and give it to them." They were really disappointed that I didn't "give it to them," that I actually just did my thing. They were almost acting like when somebody's upset when you had an opportunity to share Jesus with someone and you didn't do it.

    John: You didn't have an altar call?

    Derek: I didn't have a theological altar call. I hadn't done whatever they were expecting, and as a result, they were mad. They were like, "Dude, what was that?" They actually wound up wanting to fight me about it. And I remember being in the car on the way to the hotel that night writing the song "I Don't Want To Fight."

    Following the Prince of Peace, living in peace with people around you is not something you do suddenly. You do it preemptively, you plan for it. If I'm serious about living in peace with people, it has to start right here. I just didn't want to fight anymore. It seemed like a bad mechanism by which to talk about the love of God while being violent to people, which is essentially what I was doing intellectually for a long time.

    I think the last four or five years, I've been experimenting with and leaning into the creative side of my job, loving that side of it, but I have been making statements that were starting to get so nuanced and shrouded in poetry and extraction that it got to where people couldn't really find me on the records anymore.

    John: You mentioned earlier that both in Caedmon's and as a solo artist, you felt like your art has always been a disruption. That has been the goal, right? You want people to stop and grapple with what's being presented in front of them and then have them process through that.

    Derek: Yes.

    John: When you look at the definition of a prophet in the Old Testament, they had that same type of mindset, whether they would use that or their ideology behind that. Would you say for the last 10 years, 15 years, Derek Webb has been a prophet to the church?

    Derek: When I think about the word "prophet," what that means to me is a radical truth teller. I think artists, in general, have a real prophetic office. They can have a real responsibility for being radical truth tellers. There's almost no other role where you can do it the way you can in the arts. You can do it, but you can soften the blow with a melody. I've always taken that really seriously.

    I've had no master plan. I have been, if anything, following coordinates along the way. I don't have them in advance. I'm always as surprised as anybody at what I do next, what the records are, what their content is, what the sound of it is. My records have proved to be more prophetic to me than they have proved to be anything else. Songs that I did not know how much I needed to hear I have to sing.

    That is nowhere truer than on my new record. My new record is so particularly prophetic for me where I am in my life right now. That makes those songs really hard to sing. I'm really grateful to have them, because ultimately, that's the role that art can play. That's what I love about old hymns. That's what I love, in a broader sense, about the liturgy and about responsive reading and creeds and confessions.

    Every week at my church we recite the Nicene Creed. It's good to do it because I forget it in the week that elapses between then and the last time I said it. What I love about hymns and liturgy is that they provide for me a language with which to confess things that I wish to believe. I don't walk in the door believing the various bits of the Nicene or Apostles' Creeds. I don't walk in believing the contents of our readings from the Bible. I don't walk in believing any of that stuff, and a lot of times, I don't believe the contents of my own music.

    I don't believe the things that I'm saying, but I wish to. It's no wonder they're the songs that I have to sing. You might have to listen to them a couple times. You might have friends that make you listen to them, or you might spend a few weeks with my record and listen to it and then not listen to it. I have to sing these songs every night, so apparently I need it more than anybody else does. That's where I've been grateful. They provide language to confess things that I wish to believe.

    I would not try to tell you that you could listen to any of my records and find my system of beliefs holding steady, even at this moment, as much as you will find the things that I long to believe.

    John: Last question. What's the epitaph at the end of your life?

    Derek: This is not an answer to your question. Charlie Peacock, who is a legend in this business and a mentor to me, we have discovered we're wired very much the same way in terms of how we see the world. He said to me one time that he imagines his gravestone saying, "Here lies Charlie Peacock, the man who saw too much." I feel very much the same way. I feel like I have just a hyper-intense eye for justice and for detail. I'm not wired like an artist in that way. I'm not a big, broad thinker. I just see things all over the place, a lot of which I wish I didn't.

    I wish I couldn't tell you the contents of the three conversations that were going on at all the tables around where I was sitting at lunch today. My brain can't not hear and see everything. It's part of how I'm wired. I think it's informed much of what I've done in my job. Maybe that's the reason I see the things people don't see or refuse to see. I see it and I can't pretend like I don't—just like I can't pretend that I can't imagine every dangerous scenario when my kid is about to climb up on a bookcase or stand on the back of a couch. I can immediately see all 10 scenarios of everything that can happen.

    I can't pretend like I don't see the church, when we are saying things in the culture and we are treating groups of people a particular way, when we are fumbling with the words of Jesus and being a very bad advertisement for Him.

    Maybe some people just don't have that perspective. They don't see it, but I do and I go make art about it.

    So is Derek sorry? Listen to the album. Watch the video (above) and see for yourself. I think so.
    For more on Derek and his albums, click here.


    This post was posted in Music, Interviews, John van der Veen and was tagged with Featured, Derek Webb, Caedmon's Call

  • Shedding Light On the Subject - a interview with Bebo Norman

    Posted on October 10, 2012 by John van der Veen

    Just as mountaintop experiences are a part of the Christian faith, so are valleys; moments of struggle and searching for truth. Bebo Norman’s new album Lights of Distant Cities was forged through just such a time. What Bebo discovered through the process was this: sometimes it takes a dark time to see just how beautiful the light is...

    Family Christian: So could you start by giving us some personal background?

    Bebo Norman: I grew up in a town called Columbus, Georgia, about 90 miles south of Atlanta. Not a super-small town – probably a couple hundred-thousand people. Definitely off the beaten path, a little bit. I honestly grew up in a Christian home, in a strangely functional family. I say that with a grain of salt, because we definitely have our dysfunctions just like any family. But it was a pretty beautiful environment to grow up in, honestly. [I had] believing parents, but also parents who sort of gave us… well we grew up under their strict guidelines in a lot of ways. [However], they also allowed each of the four kids in our family to have their own sort of freedom in finding our way to faith, if that makes any sense. And so all four children did, in their own unique time through some labor and struggle. That’s were I grew up and what my back ground was.

    FC: Where did the name “Bebo” come from?

    Bebo Norman

    Bebo: My younger sister; the youngest in the family. When I was probably 4 or 5 years old, she couldn’t say “big brother” and started saying “Bebo” instead. Which is super cute when you’re four, and not quite as cute when you’re about to be 40. Know what I mean? [laughs] So I have had to sort of adjust, but it is what it is.

    FC: It is what it is.

    Bebo: People ask me a lot if it’s a stage name that I made up. And I’m like “seriously?” If I was going to make up a stage name I can promise you it wouldn’t have been Bebo. It would have been something much cooler like “Sting” or something… Well, I suppose Bono is not exactly too cool, but he is a pretty cool guy.

    FC: So at some particular point the persona out weighs any type of difficulty with the name.

    Bebo: That’s what I like to tell myself anyway.

    FC: So how did you get introduced to music and songwriting? Was that a part of your upbringing?

    Bebo: It was. My dad played this thing called a Uke which is basically a four string guitar or an oversized ukulele. He [also] played guitar. And he didn’t play it extremely well. And honestly I haven’t seen him play it since I was a kid. He used to play these old folk songs, Joni Mitchell and Joan Baez songs and really old folk traditional folk songs. And he would make up songs about our dogs and anything random that he could. That’s my first real memory of loving music – my dad playing those songs to me and my brother. We shared a room, and when we would go up to bed at night, he would come and play a song every now and then. And the truth is, he may have only done it a handful of times… I don’t really remember, but it was enough to make a significant impact. And I think the interesting thing was he was playing these old songs that were really written about kind of plain, ordinary life. And sort of finding these strangely profound things within the context of playing in a plain and ordinary life. And I think in a lot of ways that’s why I write the way that I write. And of course that has a lot to do with what influenced me once I started playing music and once I started writing music.

    I still listened to a lot of singer/songwriters at that point. But it has a lot to do with the fact that that’s how faith is played out in my life... in finding the profound and the extraordinary in a plain and ordinary life. I think that is kind of how God has moved in my life. And so it tends to be why I write about the things that I write about. So I think my dad’s influence early on had a lot to do with that.

    FC: So at some point did something happen in your heart or your head where you said “I want to switch gears and maybe make this a full-time gig”?

    Bebo: Well, honestly, it was definitely an end-of-college/post-college sort of thing. I tell people all the time that I have a degree in biology – that is what I studied in college – and my plan was to go to medical school. Which is just insane in my mind to think about now. Mostly because that was almost 18 years ago now. The thing was, I started writing songs and playing the guitar when I was probably 16 or 17 years old. I started writing songs pretty quickly after that. Once I knew a few chords – and ironically I write most of my songs with the same few chords. It was an interesting process going through college and starting to really focus on songwriting more as my own sort of personal therapy sessions, more than anything else. There was no desire in my mind at that point to play my songs for people. I mean, I did, but that was not at all where it came from. I played them for friends and every now and then for small groups of people, but I never really performed for people – it was more just something that I did. And if somebody heard me singing they might ask me to play it for them or something. Right before I was graduating from college I just started feeling this intense sense of “Hey I need to at least see what would happen with this music.” A lot of that came from people in my life where they sort of forced me to ask that question, and they would say, “Hey, you need to at least see what would happen with music.” So, I tell people all the time I took a year off after college before I was going to go apply for medical school just to see what would happen. If I am honest about it, it was probably a little more intense for me than that. It was more of an intense “Yeah, I am thinking about taking a year off to see what happens, but this is really what I feel like what I am supposed to do.” In an intense calling sort of way. And oddly enough that year has turned into seventeen years.

    You asked me if it was a hard decision or if there was a definite moment where I felt compelled to see what would happen with it. But I never felt like “hey this is going to be my life or my career.” I just thought that this was something that I needed to dive into and see what could happen – and still [all these] years into it, I feel kind of surprised a lot days that I am seventeen years into it. So, it’s been an interesting journey to say the least.

    FC: So then you met the guys in Caedmon’s Call? Or somehow you were introduced to Watershed Records and did a deal there... How did you feel after that first record came out when you realized that you had national exposure?

    Bebo: Well I was completely surprised by it. I was in the independent music world for years. So I really didn’t know what I was doing. Honestly I took out a loan when I graduated from college. My dad co-signed the loan for me to make an independent CD. And it was the beginning of the days of being able to make a CD digitally. We recorded it on these digital machines back in 1996. And that is when it released. So it was one of those things where I didn’t have any real expectations except, I am going to make this record and if I am making a record then maybe I should try to find places that I can go play, because I made a record before I played any real concerts. Then I started playing for Young Life camps and things like that back in the day. And that led from one thing to another…

    [So] this independent music scene was sort of rising up at that point and I had heard of this band Caedmon’s Call through independent music circles. And they had heard of me. And oddly enough, I was traveling through my home town, (I wasn’t living there at the time, I was living up in North Carolina), to go play a show in Florida and Caedmon’s Call happened to be playing a show in my home town and a friend of mine was promoting their show. So I went over to see the show. It ended up that these guys knew of my music and I knew of their music and we sort of hit if off that night. They asked me that night if I would tour with them the next spring. They were releasing their first national record at that point.

    So that was the beginning of this process of getting real national exposure. That’s when record labels started talking to me. And I ended up on Watershed/Essential Records with Caedmon’s Call and Jars of Clay. Andrew Peterson came shortly after. That record label is now Provident Records which is probably one of the largest record labels in the Christian music world. Definitely an interesting journey. That is how it all sort of unfolded early on.

    FC: So was it in your time with Young Life that you learned how to play wiffle ball so well?

    Bebo: [Laughs] Such an obviously leading question.

    FC: Well I remember reading something about that a couple of years ago – didn’t you break a bone?

    Bebo: Yeah, I did. That was it. I would love to be able to tell people that I broke my leg doing some extreme sport like sky diving or something, right?

    FC: I was going to say, don’t you play wiffle ball with a plastic ball and a plastic bat?

    Bebo: In my way of wiffle ball, it’s a high collision sport. That’s the way I see it. High impact. It was a random, random thing on a Memorial Day. I can’t even remember how many years ago it was now. In fact, it probably was six years ago, because I broke my leg right before we had my first son, who is five now. So anyway all that to say – yeah, I had to have surgery, three pins put in my leg all from a silly, little game of wiffle ball. I was running home and jumped up and landed funny. Just a complete freak accident.

    FC: Did your team win?

    Bebo: No! [laughs] I tied the game up when I landed on the home base. And then we went into the bottom of the last inning. The other team scored. Not even worth it… It was not even worth it.

    FC: Great story, nonetheless. Maybe someday wiffle ball will be at the Olympics.

    Bebo: That’s right. That’s right. And if it is, I won’t pretend to be a player, maybe I can be an honorary coach or something.

    FC: So since your time at Watershed, you’ve moved labels and are now with BEC Recordings. You’ve been really active since signing with them and have a new record coming out called Lights Of Distant Cities. We came across this quote recently and wondered if you could kind of talk us through what you meant a little bit. “The last few years have been pretty intense - a long, slow progression, or digression, into a spiritual desert. I struggled to write anything hopeful. But I wanted to be true to the season I was in, so I simply wrote about the hopelessness I was experiencing.” Now often times, Bebo, throughout the history of Christendom, there are people who follow Jesus and they say “there is absolutely no darkness once you are with Jesus.” From your quote, it doesn’t sound like that’s necessarily the case.

    Bebo: Well, I certainly don’t fall into that camp. It wasn’t given to me as my spiritual gift. And I say that honestly. There was a time in my life where I really found great frustration with God in the sense that, in the fact that I felt like, that was sort of the thorn in my side, in my flesh, if you will. Which makes me question the whole [idea] that when you become a believer, there is no darkness. Just because Scripture doesn’t seem to back that up, at least the Scriptures that I have studied. So I struggled with the fact that I had this tendency towards that doubt. Tendency toward questioning. And this tendency toward this idea that I sort of spiral at times into a place where I look around the world and it seems – and this is where I was writing from on this record originally – looking around the world and seeing so much that is dark and difficult and confusing. So much that is broken about the world.

    I just started asking this question “It just doesn’t look like love is winning in this world. So well, if love is not winning, then is God not winning? And if God is not winning, then who is God? And if I am wondering who God is, then, who am I within the context of who God is?” So much of my identity is wrapped up in what I believe and not just in just my Christian world view, but in how I have been transformed by who I believe God is.

    So that’s where I started this record. And even coming out of my last record which is really a record that is a lot about longing for something and being honest in writing about being in that place of longing for something. And I think this record, in a strange way, ended up becoming about finding that something. Because where I started writing from has a lot to do with the quote that you just read, this place of really struggling with the idea that our faith has these two counterpoints to it. One side is what we know to be true, and the fact that we make choices and the “decision” part of our faith. The willing ourselves toward love and toward faith because we know that truth is truth. There is a decision part of that and a will part of that. The other end of the spectrum is the emotional part – the part that feels what we feel. The things that when the Holy Spirit sort of overwhelms us, and gives us a sense of what it means to really fall in love with God. With a real understanding of what God is doing in the world.

    I think when we are young, our tendency is toward that emotional side, and it can tend to really sway and lean heavily on what it feels like to have a faith experience with God. Then we get older and we begin to realize that our emotions ebb and flow. They wane at times. Then they are full of hope at times. They are full of desperation at other times. We can start to really rely heavily on that decision. That “will” part of faith. I think I just found myself in a place, that slow digression that I mentioned, where I have been praying for so long to God. To find that first love again. To experience that feeling of falling in love again. That emotion of faith. That being overwhelmed with the Holy Spirit. I had been relying on for so long – it felt like years really – on the will part of my faith, on the decision part of my faith, to trust that truth is truth, regardless of what I feel. I just started praying real honestly to God as I looked around the world and saw all things that were wrong with it. Love was not winning. Just praying that God would really give me a sense in my heart and in my emotions again, that He really is who He says He is. And that He still really is in control of the world that just feels so out of control from time to time.

    What ended up being profound to me while writing for this record is that I started writing in that place of desperation and kind of about half-way through the writing process. And by that I don’t mean that I had written half of the songs, and then wrote the next half of songs. I had written half of all the songs. All eleven. They were all, kind of, half-written. I was writing again from that honest place, wanting to convey those emotions. The desperation. About half way through that process, God sort of met me in a really profound way.

    There were three days that I went and spent in solitude by myself. And God just showed up in a pretty moving way. For me. In an intense way. I just felt overwhelmed with a sense of what it means to fall in love again. To be moved by what God is doing in this world that feels so out of control at times.

    So in a strange way, all the songs on this record sort of represent that transition. That transition from the season of desperation to the season of recovery and renewal. So the title, Lights in Distant Cities, that’s what that song and this record is about in a lot of ways. As I look back on the writing process, it’s that moment when you come around the bend and you see something in the distance that is beautiful. And mysterious. And moving. And that thing, sort of likening that to lights in distant cities, it’s what pulls you forward in life. It’s what draws you in that direction again.

    And that is how I would describe what God did. How He pulled us into those places where He gives us those glimpses of who He is. A profound sense of who He is. That really draws us forward in life, and pulls us out of a season of darkness that we might have been in.

    So that is really where it was written from, where the title comes from and really what I was hoping to convey. Or what turns out was conveyed on the record in the long run as a whole.

    FC: Do you think that’s indicative of the Christian walk? That there are times in our lives – in a true, authentic walk – that we go through periods of wilderness or desperation?

    Bebo: Absolutely. I don’t know how… well… it certainly has been in my life. Like I mentioned earlier, there was a time in my life where I really felt frustration with God. That He gave me this tendency to doubt, this tendency to sort of move into the wilderness places. I sort of came into this place of real gratitude for that. Because in a lot of ways I think it sort of keeps us as a church, at least from my perspective. I think most often in walks of faith that I have seen in my life, from people, whether they are authors or friends in my life, they have all gone through these seasons of real wilderness. A sort of dark night of the soul.

    It kinda keeps us from becoming that church of Ephesus. The church that Revelation 2 talks about, the one that becomes the “loveless” church. They were the ones that had done so many profound things in their faith, but then became [the church] that lost it’s first love. I think when we go into those seasons of desperation, when everything else gets stripped away, we can’t become fat and warm and lazy. Or sort of lukewarm as a church. Because we feel desperate. And we feel lost. And we realize that we can’t pull ourselves out of it. It’s really about relying on a God Who’s bigger than the burdens of this world to pull us out of it.

    So absolutely, I think that’s indicative of what it means to walk and live our faith. Do I absolutely understand it? Absolutely not. Do I wish in a lot of ways that it wasn’t that way? Absolutely, because it can be painful at times. But my goodness, it makes for a beautiful experience. And one of the real quotes that moved me in the writing process for this whole record was a quote from an old German mystic from the late 1300’s, Meister Eckhart was his name. A lot of times when I have fallen into that place where I say “God, why did you build us this way, where we have to go through these seasons of the desert? Why is the world the way it is with all this darkness built into it?” Meister Eckhart said simply “If the soul could have known God without the world, God would have never created the world.” So, in some way we are built so that our soul, to really truly know God, has to go through those seasons; has to go through a world that really is a bit broken and dark, in order to really know who God is.

    That quote was a pretty massive turning point for me in the writing of this record. As simple as it is, it was pretty profound and foundational for me in a lot of ways.

    The Broken - lyric video

    FCS: We so appreciate your honesty. Bebo, what would you say to brother or sister who is struggling right now in the wilderness? Who seems either overwhelmed by sin, whether it be their own, or sin in the world, or just overall darkness. That they just don’t feel like their prayers are getting to God. Like they would feel like their prayers are just hitting the ceiling. How do you speak to somebody like that?

    Bebo: The first thing that comes to mind and that would come out of my mouth is I’m with you. I mean, I have been there. I will be there again. I happen to be in a season right now where God has really kind of “shown up” for me. In a way that I was just describing to you before. But it came out of a long season. A really long season, honestly, of feeling like my prayers were going unanswered. Feeling like… you know there is a song on the record called “Collide” and it’s probably the most indicative song of what you are talking about. That talks about these kingdoms that we build. When I don’t feel love. When I don’t feel saved. When I feel emotion-less in my faith. When I am thriving and surviving only on will and decision. Knowing that truth is truth, regardless of what I feel. When I go through long, long seasons of that, which I have done several times in my life, my tendency is to start looking for that feeling elsewhere. So I start to build these kingdoms up. And I might be peoples’ tendency to be in a dark place right now, or overwhelmed with their own sin or the sin of the world or the brokenness of the world or their own brokenness. We start to build these kingdoms up that are our attempts to fill that emotional need in our life. And those kingdoms can really be beautiful things. Things like family. Like our children, or our spouses. Or community. Even my music, for me, has become a kingdom at times. Where I seek to find my value and my worth in that kingdom. And I seek to be filled in that emotional sense. Or what strangers think of me as a musician. Of filled or completed by what my wife thinks of me. Or how I am as a father with my children. Those can be beautiful things, but when they become the center, when they become what we are drawing our emotional value from, they are bound to crumble. And truthfully, every single kingdom that I have ever built in my life has crumbled in one way or another, because they are all temporal.

    My wife is not meant to be the source of life for me. And I am not meant to be the source of life for her. My kids are not mean to be that for me. That’s too heavy for them to carry, and my wife to carry or for me to carry. Certainly our music or our career is not meant to be those things for us. They are meant to be beautiful things, but they not meant to be the source. So the song “Collide”, that is what the whole song talks about, is these kingdoms that we build. And we continue to do it over and over. The whole song is written from this desperate place and the very last line of the song says “I build these kingdoms. I continue to build them. I continue to watch them fall.” Then the last line of the song says “And then You say to me, “You’re mine.’” Here I am, this desperate guy, seeking to find you in all these other ways, and you still continue to manage to show up in some way, and remind me that I am still yours.

    And that’s what I would say to someone who is in a desperate place. Hang on for that “bend” that comes when we go around the corner as we see lights in the distance. [Lights] that are mysterious and beautiful and intriguing and they pull us forward in life. Because that to me, is how God has worked profoundly in my life and in the course of writing this record.

    FC: Are you a book reader?

    Bebo: I am. I love to read. I am slow book reader. So I tend to read just a handful books a year. And a lot of times I read them several times, to try to soak them all in.

    FC: What are you currently reading?

    Bebo: I am reading a couple right now. I have gone back to sort of start a book again. I love Tim Keller. He is one of my favorite authors, or really pastors. He has a book called Reason for God. Which every now and then I just need to go back and be reminded of the details of what a real, healthy Christian worldview is. I am also reading a book by Bob Goff right now called Love Does. He is a friend of mine. So both of those I love. But my staple, that I go to a lot is an author named Annie Dillard. They are not novels in any sense, but she has a profound spiritual sense in how she writes and what she writes about. That’s what I go to a lot. I am reading a book from her right now call the Maytrees that I just started. So those are the ones that I am reading currently. I read a whole bunch all at the same time.

    FC: One last question for you.  When you go into a Starbucks, what drink do you order?

    Bebo: A decaf triple-tall, Americano. That’s my drink. I haven’t done caffeine in ten years, but I love coffee. So I pay a little bit more to get good coffee, because bad decaf is horrible. So good decaf may seem like a misnomer to some people, but I am here to vouch for the fact that it’s true. So that’s my drink at Starbucks.

    The making of Lights of Distant Cities:


    This post was posted in Music, Interviews and was tagged with Featured, Bebo Norman, Jars of Clay, Andrew Peterson, Caedmon's Call, Tim Keller, Bob Goff, Brokeness, Starbucks

  • The Science of Song - an interview with Andrew Peterson

    Posted on September 5, 2012 by John van der Veen

    With strokes of his upbringing, faith, experiences and relationships, Andrew Peterson creates art. Like an intricate oil painting, the nuances, layers and textures combine to create something distinct and deep. But to Andrew, it’s just part of the process… down to the very DNA of the lyrics.

    Family Christian: So tell us a little about Andrew Peterson. Where are you from, what’s your family look like?

    Andrew Peterson: I’ve been married 17 years and have 3 kids who are 13, 12 and 9. I was born in Illinois (basically in a corn field), then when I was 7 we moved to what I lovingly call “redneck Florida.” So I went from having a sort of golden-boy-Midwestern childhood to [the] deep south, ya know? [With] all of the good and bad and wonderful things that come with a southern childhood. My dad is a pastor and he still preaches at the same town that I grew up in north Florida. I ended up randomly going to Bible college. Not for any noble reason, mainly because it was affordable and I couldn’t think of anything else to do (laughs). So I went to Bible college and fell in love with it almost immediately. I met my wife there, got a Bible degree, put out an indie record then moved to Nashville where I’ve been making records ever since.

    FC: Which Bible college?
    Andrew: It was called Florida Christian College in Kissimmee/Orlando. Just a small, really conservative Bible college within my “non-denominational denomination.” (laughs)

    FC: (Laughs) You may be the first person who has publicly made that into an official denomination…

    Andrew: I coined it! Yes!

    FC: Would you consider Florida to be southern living?

    Andrew: Oh yes, at least the part of Florida that I lived in. Florida is a funny place. I maintain that it is the weirdest state in the United States – and I mean that in a good way. I didn’t like it when I was a kid, but now that I’m a writer and part of my life involves telling stories, I feel like I could not have grown up in a richer story-telling culture than Florida. It’s this kind of strange convergence of beach culture and retired people and snowbirds and Cuban-Puerto Rican culture. If you drive about 15 minutes inland from the beach or out of any town, you’re in this swampy, unique kind of country, [with] racism and southern hospitality and Bible belt stuff and it’s just a really fascinating place. I’ve gotten to [this place that] now that I’m older, I’ve started reading books by southern authors because I’m so fascinated by the cultures there. Everybody from Flannery O’Connor to Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings and people like that. And so I’m really grateful. I never want it to sound like I’m talking bad about my home state but it is bizarre and I’m just delighted by that.

    FC: Do people in north Florida eat grits or biscuits and gravy?

    Andrew: Oh yes, as often as possible. My little town is called Lake Butler and it has three generations of family sheriffs. There’s a railroad track and the white people lived on one side and the black people lived on the other. There was a poured house and a little drug store where farmers in overalls would talk in the heat of the day and my dad is a southern preacher which means that he paces a lot and occasionally little flecks of spittle. It was exactly what you would imagine a “deep south childhood” would look like. So yeah, I think that may be part of where my love for storytelling came from. All you have to do is sit on the porch for a few minutes and eavesdrop on my dad’s conversations and you hear the most colorful, beautiful language – good stories. It’s a farm culture and yeah, I couldn’t wait to escape it when I was a boy, but now that I’m a grown up I live in a metropolitan area and the older I get the more I’ve started calling my mom and dad and asking them how to grow tomatoes and how to keep the deer out of the pumpkin patch (that sort of thing), and so yeah, I feel like it’s a part of who I am.

    FC: Did you meet Rich Mullins?

    Andrew: I did. Just 2 or 3 times, and each time it was in a really unadulterated fan context. I shook his hand and told him I loved him and passed him a demo. That kind of thing. It’s funny, I had just finished recording my independent record in college. I was 22.

    FC: Was that The Walk?

    Andrew: Yeah, and it’s terrible. When I go back and listen to it, I can hardly listen to it because it’s so bad in so many ways. But at the time, when you’re 22 you feel like you’re the king of the world and I thought “Man, I’m going to give this CD to Rich Mullins and he’s going to love it and we’re going to become friends!” But he died a year later so I never had a chance to live down how bad the demo was. I later became friends with Mitch McVicker who was friends with Rich’s touring partner back at the time and I was always really self-conscious that I had met them both at this geeky fan phase so I didn’t let on that I’d already met Mitch before. Years later when we started doing shows together I was like “man, do you know that we met before we started traveling together?” and he was like “oh yeah, I remember, it was at your college in Florida” and I was horrified! I said “Ahhh! No! You don’t by chance remember that I gave you a demo CD do you? And he said “yeah”, so I said, “you guys didn’t ever hear it did you? And he goes “yeah… we hated it.” (laughs) So I thought that was delightful. There’s a part of me that’s like maybe it’s a small mercy that I didn’t meet Rich because it would have been the worst thing to find out that he couldn’t stand me, ya know? (laughs) [This way] I can pretend that maybe we would have been friends.

    FC: You’ve carried the storytelling trait from your dad, which Rich had too. Was that something unique in his music that drew you?

    Andrew: Yes, definitely. I’ve kind of jokingly said that Rich’s music rescued me from Lynyrd Skynyrd. I was in a rock band the year after high school, touring around, but it never ever would have crossed my mind that I wanted to do Christian music because I grew up in this goofy paradigm that meant being in the ministry meant being a pastor, or a missionary. And I didn’t want to be either of those things so I just thought, well, I guess I don’t want to be in the ministry. So hearing Rich’s music around that time opened my eyes to how powerful a song can be. C.S. Lewis described stories this way, he said that stories could “sneak past peoples’ watchful dragons.” The idea is that a sermon will hit you head-on but art can flank you, surprise you and flip truth behind your lines when you least expect it. I think that’s what happened with Rich’s music and me. I wasn’t terribly interested in the Gospel. Ya know, I would have told you that I was a Christian but I was really struggling and really trying to find my way and then I heard this Rich Mullins song that captivated me with its poetry and the roughness that I heard in his voice. He was a smoker – I didn’t know it at the time – but I heard something broken in his voice. Emotionally and physically for that matter. So that brokenness was more beautiful to me than any of the slick stuff I had heard in Christian music. And it really drew me in. What I heard was loneliness and some sadness and a deep longing, and all of that resonated with me. I felt like he was singing the way my heart felt. It was because he was willing to be honest about his own struggle and the truth about Who Jesus really is. That woke-up something in me. It took all of those Bible stories that I had grown up with over the years and my love for The Lord of the Rings and adventure stories and all of those things converged in the songs of Rich Mullins and I found something that I’d never found before. So ever since then, every time I sit down to write a song, I’m trying to get close to the feet of those mountains. If I can write something like “The Color Green” by Rich Mullins or “Copperline” by James Taylor or “Graceland” by Paul Simon I think it’s good for a songwriter to keep listening to the masters. To ask yourself “well how in the world did they write songs that move me like this?” Every time you sit down you’re probably going to fail but you gotta at least try, ya know? So I’m always trying to get back to the way that I felt sitting on the side of a mountain in east Tennessee and listening to Rich Mullins music. So that’s what I’m shooting for, whether or not I ever attain it.

    FC: So then you met Derek Webb… or he found you? How did that work?

    Andrew: (laughs) That was back when the internet was relatively new and I was waiting tables at the Olive Garden here in Nashville. We had just moved here. Jamie and I were childless, poor and working really hard. I couldn’t get any bookings. One night I discovered this band, Caedmon’s Call, and I really liked their music. I think I discovered them because of their friendship with Rich Mullins. I think that’s how I ended up finding their website. I ended up posting something online about how their songwriting and music was really the first thing that had moved me like that since I’d heard Rich Mullins’ music. I included a link to my really lame website, and Derek followed the link and read my lyrics and he really liked them. He saw something in them and I ended up meeting them later at a concert and he remembered me and I said, can I open for you guys? And he said yes. That was basically the beginning of my music career. (laughs) I don’t know why he said yes, he’d never heard me play a song before. Never heard what I sounded like live. But for whatever reason, they happened to not have an opener like a week later so I got to drive out to west Tennessee and play a show with them. A month later I was on the tour bus.

    FC: Wow and now you’re getting ready to release your 12th or 13th album?

    Andrew: Well if you included all of the little side projects [I’ve done] it would be about that many, but it’s either the 8th or 9th full-length studio record, I can’t remember.

    FC: Ok, before talk about the new album, let’s talk a second about this “Square Peg Alliance” group you created. What is it?

    Andrew: Well, it’s funny, The Square Peg Alliance is not as active as it was maybe 3 or 4 years ago. Basically, I didn’t start it – it was just something that grew sort of organically at our little songwriting community here in Nashville. In reaction to how a lot of us had been on Christian record labels, some of us had had radio play and then as the industry started to change we all found ourselves not “pop-Christian” enough to get by in the Christian world and “too Christian-y” to ever have a chance to get by in the mainstream world. And so we didn’t know what to do other than lock arms with each other and just try to help each other survive and stick to the calling of the type of songs we were writing. We kinda jokingly named ourselves the Square Peg Alliance. Ya know, all we did was give a name to this thing that was already happening. The same thing is still happening, we just don’t officially gather under that name anymore.

    FC: Did the Rabbit Room kind of morph out of that?

    Andrew: The Rabbit Room didn’t morph out of it, but it came for the same love for community. Ya know, I went to England and saw the pub where Tolkien and C.S. Lewis and Charles Williams and their buddies used to get together and read their stories. And around that time I read a book about the Pixar company and I started to recognize that really good art thrives in the confines of community. We had some of that happening with music already, but I was writing my books and I wanted to grow into a better writer – and I knew a lot of people who wanted to do that same thing. So The Rabbit Room was kind of an experiment in community. We thought, what happens if we get some authors and pastors and songwriters and artists all joined together with the hopes that we’ll learn to make excellent work? And invite people into that conversation and see what happens? So we didn’t really have a clear direction, I just bought the domain name and made the website and invited some friends to be a part of it, and that was about 5 years ago. It’s doing really well. It’s been a pleasant surprise at almost every turn.

    FC: And so now you’ve written 3 books?

    Andrew: I’m [currently] writing my 4th book.

    FC: Obviously you’re an artist, but do you have a preference between writing music or books? Is one easier for you?

    Andrew: Um, I think that the easier one is whichever one I’m not doing. (laughs) Yeah, it’s all hard. There’s a part of me that really loves the book making process. Part of that is because I can stay home, it doesn’t involve a lot of travel, [it’s] a slowing down. It’s work, but it isn’t frantic work. Being on the road, playing music, there’s a lot of travel and deadlines and craziness, whereas book writing is probably more diligent work. It just doesn’t take me away from my wife and kids, so I really love that. With that said, I’m supposed to be writing book 4 right now but it’s been like trying to push-start a semi truck. Like I’ve had a really hard time mustering the discipline to really dig into it, so ya know, it’s all really hard, man. (laughs) It’s like planting the garden, the only way to get good fruit is to sweat and bleed for it, so that’s where I am right now.

    FC: But maybe that’s due to the fact that you have a new record coming out too…

    Andrew: Well, that’s part of it. I have been pretty busy with the record thing. I feel a little bit creatively capped ya know, from writing the songs probably too quickly. So that’s part of it. If I’m really honest with myself I am also just trying to avoid it because it’s a lot of work. (laughs) When I was in Bible college I wanted to be a youth minister because I thought he was the one who did the least amount of work in the church. (laughs) I did it for a year and realized that the opposite is true. So I quit [youth ministry] thinking, well maybe I can get out of doing work if I play music. And that wasn’t really true either.

    FC: You’ve touched on various themes in your previous records… What is the name of the new record, and is there an overarching theme?

    Light For the Lost Boy

    Andrew: The name of the record is Light for the Lost Boy. And if there was a theme (I think the title kind of sums it up), [it’s that] a lot of the songs on this record are about growing up. There are a lot of aspects to what it means to grow up. There’s the exit from Eden, this aspect of childhood that we are all kind of exiled from as we sin and grow old which creates this longing for restoration. There’s this longing for Jesus to hurry up and come back, to let us enter this Kingdom where we’ll have undying bodies [without] the pain of age or wasting away. Ya know, the effects that occur. There’s a lot of longing wrapped up in [this record]. I’m just trying to figure it out myself too. I don’t know. I’m watching my kids teeter into adolescence and the conversations with them have gotten more difficult. It’s not like we’re having problems with them, [it’s just the] preparing them for the world they’re growing into. It’s been pretty sad for me. I mean, I’m excited because they’re amazing kids and I think they’re going to do great things for the Kingdom, but at the same time, I’m grieving a little because I know that part of the process, the discipline that we receive as children of the King is sometimes painful. They’re going to make mistakes. The older they’ve gotten the more I’ve remembered my own childhood, ya know? I remember the sweetness of it, but I also remembered some of the moments that have continued to cause me pain over the years. So I’m guessing that’s why so many of the songs deal with childhood and the longing for restoration. But honestly I don’t know. I’m trying to be better about writing the songs I write and letting the listener add his or her own DNA to the thing. Most of us have seen the movie Jurassic Park, but I don’t know if you remember the scene where they’re going through the ride and the little computer thing is animating how they recreated dinosaurs from the DNA they found in the mosquitoes. And it shows these cartoon DNA strands and they’re like, well, we couldn’t really complete the DNA strands from the dinosaur so we used some from a turtle (I think or maybe it was a lizard) to complete the DNA and we created these dinosaurs. And I think songwriting and art are like that. My songs are these strands of my own DNA but there are all of these holes in them, like the songs aren’t a complete story. So the listener then brings his own DNA to the song and it begins to mean something specific to him or her. I remember that happened with “Dancing in the Minefields” this song about my marriage. The first line is “I was 19 and you were 21 the year we got engaged…” And I’ve gotten so many emails from people who are like “your story is just like my story, she was 19 and I was 21 the year we got married” and those details aren’t right at all! (laughs) They got the numbers backwards and they got the engagement and the wedding different because these people have brought their own story to my song so much so that the details of my song becomes irrelevant. So I’m hoping that with this record that whatever I meant by it will only be the beginning of the story for what the songs do in the heart of the people who are hearing it.

    Rest Easy

    FC: What music are you enjoying lately?

    Andrew: I have been listening to a lot of the new – I’m trying to be careful not to say anything “bad” because I’m talking to Family Christian (laughs) – I’ve been listening to the new Bon Iver record a lot. As soon as I said that I remembered there’s a bad word in one of the songs. There’s a band called Fleet Foxes that my sons and I really like. It’s really creative, almost classical sounding folk music, “chamber folk” is what some people call it I think. And then there’s this new Ben Shive record, he’s the guy who produced my new album – he’s really great. There’s this guy Josh Garrels, he’s great. We’ve connected and I tried to talk him into the Christmas tour this year. His wife is going to have a baby right before the tour so he couldn’t do it, but I’m a huge fan of his. Josh makes me feel the way I felt when I listened to Rich Mullins, I think Jon Foreman (of Switchfoot) is like that too. There are very few people who have such great music that is so unabashedly about the gospel. I think Josh is one of those guys. Man, when I’m jogging and I hear his music, sometimes I “ugly cry.” (laughs) He’s so explicit about the God that he’s singing to and about. I’m deeply moved by that. So there’s a short list.

    FC: What kind of dog is your pet, Moon Dog?

    Andrew: (laughs) He is a Great Pyrenees. He’s a white, bushy, sheep-herding kind of dog. That’s Moon Dog. He’s white so he’s easy to see when he runs around at night. I also have to say, my father-in-law worked for NASA back around the time of the Apollo missions, he lived right there in Cocoa Beach where all of the astronauts were and sort of ‘lived among them.’ So [he] had a dog named Moon Doggie because he was working on the moon mission. And I always thought that was a great name, so when we got this dog I liked the idea of Moon Dog Jr.

    FC: Well Andrew, thanks for talking with us today. We can’t wait to hear the new album.

    Andrew: I can’t wait for you to hear it either. Thanks so much for doing this.

    Andrew’s new record Light for the Lost Boy hit stores this week! Pick it up here and check out his previous works here.

    To look into some of the artists that Andrew mentioned in the interview, follow these links:

    C.S. Lewis

    Rich Mullins

    Caedmon’s Call & Derek Webb

    Switchfoot

     


    This post was posted in Music, Interviews and was tagged with Featured, Rich Mullins, Andrew Peterson, Derek Webb, Caedmon's Call, College, The Lord of the Rings, Switchfoot, C.S. Lewis

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