Cedar and Sage are overjoyed to release to you Rendezvous,
an album of songs that we feel represent a unique brand of "Jake and
Dan" music. Those who know us best may have a sense for what this album
may contain... perhaps a modern day take on the likes of Crosby, Stills,
Nash and Young or America? Certainly a love song or two... and what
about some surprise tracks from the reaches of Dan's ever-agile musical
mind? We think it's all here. And it's here for you... so take it!
The truest compliment to us would be that you enjoy the music enough to make a donation to the Daniel and Angela Callister Family Adoption Fund (through PayPal
in the top right corner of this blog). ANY Donation is helpful. If
you'd like to make a donation by some other means please contact us at cedarandsagemusic@gmail.com.
As a teenager (mid-90s) I remember "sampling" was a phenomena that, although not new, seemed to be as pervasive as ever in popular music. If your not familiar with the phenomena of "sampling," its pretty simple: artists use rhythms, beats, licks, and lyrics from existing songs, and build a "new" song around it. A perfect example is Puff Daddy using The Police's "Every Breath You Take." I got into an argument with a kid at school once about a tune that I knew was based on a Chicago sample that he insisted was original (its funny to think that nowadays I could have had the original song playing in his ear within seconds, but even in the mid-90s the information age hadn't really arrived). Anyway, all this to say that, as a young (and odd) lover of older music, I was frequently finding myself in a position of the "advocate" for recognition of original artwork. Janet Jackson has nothing to do with that great guitar lick.. its from an America song written 25 years ago! Hey Warren G fans...that's a Michael McDonald groove in there!
Ok Jake.. whats the story?..Yesterday evening, I watched a short documentary about the band Badfinger. I am aware of some of their hits, but knew little else about them. Their story, to me becomes a deeper and more meaningful application of this concept of "recognition."
I'll try to be brief... Badfinger were the first artists to sign onto Apple Records. Apple was a label owned and started by the Beatles (James Taylor also signed onto Apple shortly after Badfinger). When the Beatles broke up, Badfinger was slated as the "next Beatles." Their early hits included "If you want it hear it is come and get it," and "Know matter what you do." If you don't recognize these songs form the title, you'd recognize them if you heard them.
The band had tremendous promise. Tragically, the unfortunate combination of the band's inexperience and a crooked manager left them without anything (financially) to show for their early success. The band's leader and primary song writer, Pete Ham had naively defended the crooked manager till the betrayal was exposed. Devestated, and facing serious financial hardship, Pete Ham, a young father, took his own life.
Several years later after painful attempts at recovery and tragic infighting between members of the band, Tom Evans, Pete Ham's closest friend in the band, also took his own life in a desperate moment.
Tragic and sad story, right? But what is the "recognition" issue here? What I did NOT know is that Badfinger had written and released a song along with those previous hits that went essentially unnoticed as a "Badfinger" song. The song was picked up by Harry Nillsson as a VERY rare cover tune for him. The song was called "Without You." Some of you more seasoned readers will remember the Harry Nilsson version.. some of you my age may only remember a Mariah Carey version of the song which was a major hit in 1994.
Most music listeners could care less about the story or context of a song. If they choose to think about it all, they rarely consider that it might go any deeper. (and to be fair.. a lot of songs, past and certainly present, don't go any deeper than the radio wave itself). In 1994, when Mariah Carey came out with this song, I have to admit that the thought NEVER occurred to me that this song had a story. I would later discover that Harry Nilsson had recorded a version and that it was not his, but I never knew whose it was.
It was, in fact, Pete Ham and Tom Evans of Badfinger who had co-written the song in 1972.
No I can't forget this evening or your face as you were leaving
But I guess that's just the way the story goes
You always smile, but in your eyes
Your sorrow shows
Yes, it shows
No I can't forget tomorrow
When I think of all my sorrow
When I had you there but then I let you go
And now it's only fair that I should let you know
What you should know
I can't live
If living is without you
I can't live
I can't give anymore
The next time you hear this song, in addition to any emotion the song may evoke on its own, consider its careworn co-writers perhaps revisiting the song in future moments of utter desperation. Whew! Music is more than we make of it sometimes. Its fun, and its catchy but its also art, literature and even history.
Just wanted to share...
Monday, January 21, 2013
Ok, This is one of those dangerous posts that represents the alignment of several factors: The moment where I find myself much fatigued by the staleness of my blog and the previous post :) and the ever-rare moment where I find myself with a moment to write. The danger lies in having no clear direction or objective to my post. I sense confusion in some readers: "you mean your other posts had direction and objective?" Well.. sometimes, but many were the result of the phenomena described above.
What to write about?... hmmm... well here is something that is occupying brainspace tonight. Henry's hair has contracted a terminal condition.. its called "Mommy's waning patiencitis." There is no clear cure. I am in a certain state of denial. I have noted the looks, I have heard the subtle (and less subtle) commentary. I am aware that my son is in territory akin to running around with scissors, or dancing on a table, or running in a cul-de-sac... (all of which Henry has done recently.. and if there was a table in the cul-de-sac he surely, at some point, would have done all of them at once). Even the "cool" parents are starting to look at me like "seriously Jake.. get this under control..."
Why the long hair Jake?.. whats this all about? Well, maybe its my way of joining in in that universal parental exercise of projecting onto and through our children. Recently I provided my wife with a tactless sidenote about her effort to throw our kids a last minute two-year birthday party. I tried to remind her that the party she felt compelled to throw the kids (for their sake) was almost certainly 95% for her. She needed to know that she hadn't failed them, she needed to show them the picture twenty years from now, she needed her friends to see that she had it together. True or not, I think there is no denying that the things we do under the banner of "for the children" are often as much for us. So my version of that may be Henry walking around in the likeness of a member of the Doobie Brothers. Yes, Daddy is a professional, Daddy needs to look respectable-ish... but deep down inside, Daddy wants his flowing mane to sway back and forth as he wales out the lead line on Bread's "Guitar Man." http://youtu.be/czFkFI2lqag?t=3m5s There IS something satisfying about it. Henry may be my pressure valve for grown-up anxiety, for the frustration that recognizing that conforming is a net positive evokes...
Do I fear that Henry is going to look like a dork with his haircut? Yes... yes I do. But, its a healthy exercise to keep this "projection" business in check right? Perhaps less hypocrisy on my part can ease the burden of my tactless sidenotes if nothing else :)
About a year ago, I sent my brother a song that I had written and recorded. I had written songs before (some that I was very proud of) but songwriting was always a relatively painful process for me. I was finding, ironically, that amongst the increased distraction and stress that my life had become, songwriting was starting to come to me much more naturally and enjoyably. I remember thinking, well that's great, now that I have no vehicle to share this stuff, it starts coming.
That's when I sent my first audio file to my brother Dan (living at the time in Moscow, Idaho). Mostly I just wanted his blessing and some kind of feedback. Dan sent a file back shortly thereafter with bass and drums..... Cool.
This was the beginning of our exploration of remote collaboration and our journey to find a venue for our music.
Mostly it has just been tremendously fun and rewarding to be working with my brother on something that we both enjoy, and can contribute to. At present we have assembled enough original tunes to produce a full length album under the name "Cedar & Sage." He is now living in Meredith, New Hampshire and I am in Eugene, Oregon making it a "transcontinental collaboration."
With one or two Christmas songs in our repertoire and with the season upon us, we decided to hastily produce a Christmas album. We started a website where you can listen to and/or download the Christmas album for free. Its our gift and celebration of this great new collaboration. The full length album "Rendezvous" will be available in the Spring of 2013(a few tracks from that album are also posted on the website).
For all of the potential evils of technology, it sure is nice when you find a way that it truly brings you closer to others and brings you some genuine fulfillment of a talent or aspiration.
Please have a listen if you have a moment.
I couldn't pass up the opportunity to share a quick story of this "family photo shoot." Great picture right? Isn't it wonderful that photographic technology has allowed us to capture these wonderful moments of joy, unity, peace and love within our families? HAAA! Let me explain:
This picture is great. NO DOUBT. I love the colors, I love how gorgeous Annie is in the picture, how much it says about Henry and Charlotte, how utterly precious little Caroline is, and I don't even look that awful. It will be a cherished snapshot of this era in our lives. It will, however, take a while to get over the literal point in time that this picture was immersed in.
The kids were all smiles and lovely until we needed them to look at the camera and smile. Our children, like many (or at least we tell ourselves "like many") can put the drama and stink attitude on pretty thick. This is not unusual. But the morning of this shoot was a particularly excessive display of their skill (and dedication)in this arena. After being very stressed about the preparation that went in to this, ( as well as the photographers time, missing work, not knowing if we would ever be able to pull this off again), we could seriously only laugh about how insane it got (that may sound like a "Mormon Message moment", you know what I mean: Annie and I stop and gaze over at each other smiling, slightly giggling and shrugging our shoulders with that "I am glad I never REALLY lost my patience" look in our eyes). But the reality of it was nothing that anyone watching television should see (and certainly not anything the Mormon church would want its name on).
Anyway, I am seriously UTTERLY shocked that the photographer got this one off. I am sure it represents a literal nanosecond in time when, although desperately, and inexplicably unhappy, Chenry were somehow caught in a moment of what I will call "inter-writhe." It happened fast enough that even my quick and agile mind:) was unable to register it at all. Annie and I just walked around like mannequins with smiles on our faces desperately hoping that at any given point "inter-writhe" would "intercede" and somehow the camera would catch it. That's seems to have happened. A miracle. It makes all the pain (including falling on my butt with Caroline and Charlotte in arms) worth it (though Caroline may disagree). A tender mercy indeed.
I think there is a lesson here. This year as you review the Christmas cards you receive from all of your friends, you know the friends with those well-mannered children, lets not forget that this one nanosecond may very well represent a moment of "inter-writhe" that was immersed in chaos, devastation, heartache, pain and suffering. Our lives are generally good right? Our photos will remind us of this, of the magical moments. But lets own the fact that the "magic" of family photo shoots is simply that we survive them (when we do at least).
Please enjoy this brief moment in the Jacob and Annie Callister family experience, and know that although this specific morning was one I choose to forget, the smiles and glowing faces are a real reflection of a genuinely happy little family.
Last week the Von and Maureen Callister family embarked on an epic autumn adventure. Long has the family discussed returning to Lake Powell to do it RIGHT. By returning I mean that we have made many trips over the years that have, in one form or another, interfaced with this expansive Lake which criss-crosses a massive swath of Southern Utah (the Colorado Plateau). We have camped near it, swam in it, driven over it, etc. We have always known that the way to do this place RIGHT is by water. The silver-lining to the somewhat devastating damming of the Colorado River at Glen Canyon, was the tremendous increased access it provided to a wonderland of red rock cathedrals, sandy beaches, canyons slots, and vistas. Some of us had independently experienced Lake Powell this way, but the goal was to make the trip as a family. Last week we did it!
Before the trip even started, prayers were sent heavenward petitioning providence to keep the majority of us well. This because one family came to Utah with a few strains of sinusitis and another was recovering from very recent bout of stomach flu (an affliction which tainted the previous year's reunion in Ogden Valley). Those were genuine prayers, as we had all very much looked forward to this rare experience of being together and had hoped to enjoy it in relative health.
Ma and Pa Callister had outdone themselves for this trip. We had a 52-foot houseboat (which felt more like a ferry) to serve as headquarters, while Josh, my brother had his ski boat for more agile travel and additional human conveyance.
We hit the Lake Wednesday morning and before too long were parked in a lovely spot that Google Earth had revealed to have promise (and which indeed lived up to its promise). The location suited a number of important "Callister" functions: 1. A wide selection of places to fling oneself from a rocky ledge into water (5 - 30 feet), 2. Areas to pitch a number of tents, 3. Coves for exploring with Kayaks, 4. Relative isolation, 5. Places to wander, and wander some more. The added bonus was the Slot Canyon located at the end of our narrow canyon camp.
We had such a great time pursuing all of the above listed activities and a few more, including horse shoes and Calliball-- (one of many tennis ball based games that have developed over years of camping trips).
Novelty can go under-appreciated when expectations are not met. In our case, sun, swimming and starry nights were the expectation. On Friday we were met with rain, wind and overcast. Optimism however quickly turned this failed expectation into a true desert novelty-- That of FLOWING water and ROCK. Those familiar with the desert know that rainy nights quickly turn into clear mornings full of raging ephemeral streams. These waterways spend the majority of their life bone dry, evoking the question of passers by: "I wonder what this place looks like when there is water flowing here?" We had the rare pleasure of seeing for ourselves. It was any geology instructors dream come true and we did our best to teach one another about the creative power of erosion as we watched water pore over this landscape and gather into little burrowing channels. It was the little unexpected gift of the trip.
On our last day we decided to push our time-frame back and get in a good hike through our slot canyon. We have a fascination with slot canyons; narrow crevices in rock, where water and wind have slowly etched deeper and deeper. Its a tremendous rush to walk through the "belly of the beast," with only occasional glimpses of blue sky above. Our Lake Powell slot did not disappoint. The last hundred yards or so were met with knee deep, newly fallen rain water, adding to the excitement and mystery of the place. This was the kids first slot and thus had a certain ceremonial feel to it. They loved it (though Henry slept the majority of the way back down).
On the whole it was a fabulous escape from the many and varied distractions of the posterity of Von and Maureen Callister. We visited, laughed, played, slept, watched rain and lightning, sang a little bit, told lots of stories and had a magnificent time doing it all.
As some around me begin to talk of that age old tradition of the annual “hunt,” I reflect on my own unique history with this tradition. Like most boys I was pretty infatuated with guns and weapons and various and sundry implements of harm. I am not sure why this happens. I am sure there is research there but I am content to leave it a mystery for now.
I think this was a key element to why, as a kid and young teenager, I was so fond of the annual deer hunt which we participated in every October from the time I was allowed to go (maybe 4 or 5). Let me provide a little background. My Dad and his brothers grew up in rural Utah, if not in, then not far removed from the genuine need to hunt to feed yourself. The tradition remained and was (is) a much enjoyed and looked forward to occasion.
My weapon (not of choice, but of restriction) was the Daisy BB gun rifle, which in the later years developed into a .22 (I have never held a loaded gun with the power or intent of killing deer). I poked around at little animals and little targets. When I was fairly young my Dad brought his deer hunting rifle along. As time went on he brought it less, until he stopped all together.
As a young man I remember thinking of a big buck as an almost mythical creature. You see, though I heard many stories of hunting success among my dad and uncles (and had even seen pictures), in all my 10-ish years of hunting, I had NEVER seen anyone kill a deer. That's right, not one of my uncles or other family members EVER killed a deer while I was with them. Though I always had a great time, I always felt a certain disappointment at another unsuccessful hunt. Was it me? Was it all that BB gun shooting scaring them off? I never wanted to put anyone on the spot or rub it in anyone's face, but geez c'mon you guys, they're just deer! and there's like 15 of us with powerful, long range rifles. I kept it to myself.
One year, when I was about twelve (ahh, that questioning age), we were driving out of the woods. We passed a camp that had two deer hanging from a tree. I decided I was going to be bold and ask what the heck was going on. Why were we cursed to never get a deer? I remember my uncle's response clearly. There was nothing cryptic about it. He said: "Did you have a good time?" "Yes," I said, "Do those people over there (pointing to the fairly weary looking hunters with the carcass of a deer to take care of), "Yes," I replied, then he asked, "Do they look like they are having fun? " I paused.. "Not really." My uncle smiled, "Once you kill an animal that's when the fun stops and the work starts." I had a serious 12-year old epiphany. Whether my uncle really meant it and whether it was the result of some stated strategy or not, it became relatively clear to me they weren't REALLY trying, and probably hadn't for years! Now its also possible that this is just something that unsuccessful hunters say right?! But as I reflected on what the "Deer Hunt" had become it just made so much sense that it was about tradition and family more than meat, it was about being outside with your brothers more than killing something. I laugh to myself today imagining my Uncle Sheldon wandering off in his own direction, sitting near an open meadow with his rifle against a tree, and sharing an apple with a 10-point buck :). I think of the gorgeous places we went hunting and think of how, from the perspective of encountering deer, they were not the best choices.
Though memories of the deer hunt for me will never include an actual deer, they are magical memories of dutch oven dinners, ping pong, cards at the cabin, priceless cousin time, sleeping bags, VERY early and freezing mornings, long hikes and talks with my Dad, amazingly pleasant afternoons under bright yellow quaking aspen trees with the sun hitting the earth with that "Autumn" light and that crisp smell that is so hard to describe.
I think traditions like these are important and are much more flexible than we may think. My Dad and his brothers along with nephews, nieces and grand-kids hold the "annual deer hunt" still. There is not a gun to be found and from what I can tell its focus is still simply going to the cabin, playing ping pong and cards, eating good food and just being together. Oh how I wish I could be there! This time of year my thoughts turn to the "deer hunt" but not really deer and not really hunting :) What are the traditions that my children will reflect on? Something I need to think about, and maybe you do as well.
