Just the other day I had occasion to head over to IMDB in search of a movie release date.  I don't know why I looked because the last time that my wife and I, who have two children, were able to go to the movies was in May but I looked in hope anyway.  As I was searching, I came across the trailer for the new Sylvester Stallone film, Rambo, and my heart skipped a beat.  At this point I feel it's important to provide a dash of backstory before we continue if you'll allow me.

As a child, the neighborhood that I grew up in was separated into two camps; you were either a Stallone fan or a Schwarzenegger fan.  Star Wars was a given but things got dicey when the discussion of these two heavyweights came into play.  And I fell on the side of Stallone.  As bizarre as it sounds to say now, I found Stallone's characters to be more, ahem, real and relatable to me than those of Arnold.  So, I devoured just about every Stallone film my parents would let me watch or that I could sneak a peek at.  I loved them all, Rocky, the Rambo series, even Cobra.  Sly was my guy.

...of Michael Farris but you should.  Farris is the former lead singer for bands like the Screamin' Cheetah Wheelies and Double Trouble but, unless you're a die-hard audiophile, that probably doesn't ring a bell.  What does ring a bell is Farris' soul-filled voice.  Possessed of something greater than himself, the artist tore through New Orleans-flavored gospel classics on his most recent album, Salvation in Lights, which Infuze reviewed here.  Yet, even more recently, Farris performed at a tribute for the venerable Porter Wagoner and simply brought the house down.  The video clip is here and yes, you should watch it.  Note the goosebumps rising on your arms as you feel Farris' soul come through the music.  It's haunting, beautiful.  These are the kind of artists and talent that deserve to be heard.  Just thought I'd share.

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Oftentimes in my creative endeavors, I find myself a bit befuddled.  Sometimes we're more than prideful when it comes to the process of writing, sometimes feeling compelled to pen words that will be life-changing and full of creativity, imagining people generations from now turning to our work in much the same way we do those of Chesterton or Lewis.  This desire is not in itself a negative one.  I long to write at least one thing in my lifetime that transcends this time period, that holds true and faithful and is encouraging to the next generation.  But, ultimately, I have to realize that my words are just that, words. 

Unless you've lived under a rock or in a remote corner of the desert this past week, you've been treated to all manner of commentary regarding the return performance of Ms. Britney Spears at the MTV VMA's.  And if you have lived under a rock, let me fill you in.  Brit's performance was, well, less than perfect.  Taking the stage looking like she'd forgotten to dress, the pop star sauntered through a poorly lip-synched performance and elicited all manner of reaction from the crowd.  Simply put, it was not Spears' best work.  So why does this post stand in defense of this young star?  I'm glad you asked.

Lately I've found myself pondering the role of so-called profanity in art and culture.  As many moral watchdogs will readily point out, the use of colorful speech is clearly on the rise in American culture.  Words that were once deemed unfit for popular conversation are now used as liberally as salt and pepper at the dinner table.  Even the dreaded "F-bomb" seems to have received some sort of cultural pass, even to the point of making it's way into the coveted PG-13 bracket.  So what's the deal with all this language?  Should we be concerned?  And what should our response to such things be given our basis of faith?

These are heavy questions to which there are no easy answers.  Now some will disagree.  They will point quickly to this or that biblical passage and immediately consign things to the realm of black and white.  And they may be right.  But are there exceptions or places that our art should allow for these things?  If we desire our work to maintain a sense of integrity and honesty, may we not have to, on occasion and depending upon the context, write that which comes from experience? 

I have a confession to make.  I love me some MTV.  I think it stems from the fact that I grew up deprived, living in the country, with but the ten channels that our foil-wrapped bunny ear antennas could pull in.  We were a musical family in that something was nearly always playing here or there but, sadly, while other kids sat glued to Alice Cooper and Twisted Sister videos, I instead was forced to go outside and play.

However, once I started dating my wife, who had cable, my whole life changed.  We would end up hanging out late at night, lying on the couch talking and dreaming, and I would nonchalantly switch the channel over to that land of forbidden fruit.  Those were good days.  I drank up the audio/visual feast that was MTV.

I'm not often one to toss my musical opinions around outside of the reviews that I do but, in this instance, I feel compelled to do a bit of street work for a band that I feel deserves all the credit they get, The Carolina Chocolate Drops.  The band is comprised of three young African-American's with a passion for resurrecting the antebellum songs of the past with a postmodern flair and a fluorish.  This is amazing acoustic music, mountain music, that is simply wonderful.  Please, if you're a fan of good music, check out the Carolina Chocolate Drops. 

Start here with this link to a performance of their cover of Blu Cantrell's 2001 hit: "Hit 'Em Up Style".

Then go here and buy their album and support great music: Carolina Chocolate Drops

You'll be glad you did....

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