Check out my new podcast about Clint Howard, a good friend, and an amazing Appalachian storyteller and musician!

Click here to listen to the new podcast.

Check out www.clinthoward.org for more information on Clint, his music and concert dates. He’ll be at Merlefest next year, as he has been since the first year it was created!

Here’s a tribute to my good buddy Gary Sontum, who stars alongside me in this brilliant tale of torment, passion, fear and loathing. And at the end, the victory is so sweet:)

(A Comedic Short Film:)

I wrote Mountain Vespers in 2001, and recently released a new audio recording, and updated data CD for the service. The following is a response I wrote to Dr. Gilson Waldkoenig at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Gettysburg’s class, opening up a series of discussions that will be taking place this week on their servers. I will hopefully get permission to publish some of their comments here, as well as my own.

Below is one of my initial essays, this one about the creation of Mountain Vespers, and my vision for its mission and future, as well as the meaning of the service. Dr. Waldkoenig was also interested in my reasoning behind writing a bluegrass liturgy. My response to that is encased in the surrounding telling of my tale.

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MOUNTAIN VESPERS

Mountain Vespers began as a response to the worship that I was exposed to every day at the place I lived, worked and worshipped, Holden Village, in the wilds of Washington state (You are all heartily invited to visit — it is a wonderful, idyllic, Lutheran retreat center that you will quickly fall in love with. www.holdenvillage.org).

Every evening of the week, the entire village, staff and guests (in the summer upwards of 500 people, and in the winter as few as 50-60) gather together for evening Vespers. There are readings, performances, prayers, hymns, sometimes following a liturgical pattern, and other times not. But every Friday evening was devoted to ‘Vespers ‘86’, a setting of the Evening Prayer by Marty Haugen, who was a musician in residence during the winter of 1986, and first ‘tested’ his Holden Evening Prayer service at the village during that time. I have a very sensitive musical ear, and love my ipod, because I can set it to shuffle, and be assured that I will not hear the same tune twice (with 10,000 tunes loaded into the gadget). After a full year, I tired of Haugen’s service, just as others grew accustomed to it, and loved it because they knew it so well. A friend suggested that I write an alternative.

So, I did just that. I dug into the Vespers texts, and wrote an alternative to Holden Evening Prayer. Mountain Vespers has been in constant use at Holden Village ever since, and is being used by hundreds of congregations across the country.

Part of the story that I didn’t explain is the personal part. I have a very odd life, and have experienced some great hardships in my 27 years. My bio, etc. is at www.kentgustavson.com/bio, if you want to read more, but I’ll tell a different take on it here.

I created a program in conflict resolution for teens in Jerusalem, living in Bethlehem, and very much hopeful and excited for the outcome. I had worked for 3 years with Seeds of Peace, (www.seedsofpeace.org), and had hundreds of contacts in the middle east. Then the Intifada began, and a good friend/favorite student of mine was beaten to death while wearing his Seeds of Peace t-shirt in a peaceful demonstration gone bad. He ran to help a friend, and was instead dragged into the woods, and beaten to within an inch of his life with the butts of the young Israeli soldiers’ M-16s. Asel himself was an Israeli, but had the wrong color skin, as did the others who died that day. He died in the ambulance, because it was required to go to another area of the country for treatment, and was not allowed through because he was an Arab. His ambulance stood at the checkpoint for 30 minutes as he died of bleeding.

That was a lot to handle for a young man who had been so hopeful for ‘peace.’ I was persuaded to come home, and, disillusioned, I retreated into the mountains, to Holden Village. I wrote, worked and hiked, trying to recover. Then, I began to work on Mountain Vespers, based in the faith I was discovering and forming as I found a God who knelt down near his friend Lazarus’ tomb and wept.

I left in March of 2001 to visit my parents, and had a wonderful time visiting them, telling them of how I was recovering from my disillusionment with the world. My father and I left for a hiking trip in the mountains of Arkansas for 3 days while my mother flew to a conference in South Carolina. My mother got off the plane in Atlanta to an attendant that told her that my father and I were in critical condition in the ICU at a hospital in Springdale, Arkansas. My father nearly died that day. He lost 95 percent of his blood. And my childhood died again that day. As did my twenties. I became an old soul on March 11, 2001, 6 months before 9/11. I heard my father’s screams next door in the ICU as the paramedics pulled the fencepost out of his chest. I was laying alone on a cold table in the ER with my wrist dangling, hearing my father die. And for the first time, I knew the pain of Asel.

I knew what pain was like. I knew what it might be like to have your son beaten to death. It is not something you can recover from. To read more about Asel’s life and death, please visit www.slider17.com (that was his online nickname as a 17 year old). And I discovered Christ that sat next to Lazarus’ tomb.

It was in the hospital, waiting for my father to come back to life, that I finished Mountain Vespers. And it was in the year after the accident, when I extended my stay at Holden Village, that I learned to be a composer of faith. I created music that expressed the feelings I had within. And I created a text that tied me to the deep tradition of my family.

I dedicated the service to my father, and to Holden Village. Because I was alive, and because I wanted to praise with a shout and a song.

I remember my mother and I singing “There is a Balm in Gilead,” and seeing her break down in tears. Uncontrollable sobbing. Because we didn’t know if they could piece Dad back together.

***

I have grown immensely in faith, and in musical ability since 2001, but the same concept continues to live in my music. We die to our old selves when we become true believing worshippers of God. Paul talks about it. So do countless theologians, including my personal favorite, C.S. Lewis. And, out of all of our suffering, we are surprised by joy. The resurrection starts to make sense.

My father and I go on bike trips of 2-3 hours now, when I visit home. He is recovering still. An amazing thing for a 61 year old man to feel the vitality come back to his bones, nerves and muscles. But he has been reconstructed. Reborn. Given another chance to live, love, learn. And he has the same wonderful mind that has made him the best pediatrician possible for nearly 40 years.

***

Mountain Vespers, again, was not written as a Bluegrass Service. It is a testimony to my faith, and the faith of my parents. It is an exercise in tradition that emerged from my deepest soul, out of pain, and out of a new-found joy and faith. It is the story of my coming of age.

I am the first composer to set to music the “Holden Prayer of Farewell,” a prayer that comes from the LBW, but has been adopted by Holden Village, and is recited by heart by all members of the community when a good friend leaves to go out into the world… My arrangement of the words goes as follows:

“O God, you have called us, to ventures where we cannot see the end, by paths never yet taken, through perils unknown. Give us good courage, not knowing where we go, to know that your hand is leading us, wherever we might go. Amen.”

That prayer means more to me than any other text in the entire world. And those are the words that kept me through the terrible days following our car wreck. My friends from Holden Village sent me cookies and stuffed animals, happy I was alive. They prayed for us every day.

That is what Mountain Vespers is about. It has nothing to do with Bluegrass.

My vision is that I hope both Mountain Vespers and Light into the World find lives of their own, enriching the lives of congregations, and telling a story. Worshippers will find their story. Bluegrass musicians, contemporary musicians, singers, congregants, all will see their own stories in the words. Or maybe they will simply sit back and listen. And we will all be connected by faith in that experience.

I will never make a living at liturgical composition. But that’s not what it’s all about. I have an opportunity to share my faith, my hope, and my little window into the liturgy. I craft words and tunes to help others sing their songs of joy, reconciliation, sorrow, redemption… What an honor!

This coming week, I will be having a discussion with students at the Lutheran School of Theology in Gettysburg, PA about folk music, composition, and liturgy, three things that I am familiar with and fond of! I am very excited about my inclusion in Dr. Gilson Waldkoenig’s course, and have prepared responses to his initial queries for me. My responses were a great deal longer than I anticipated, and I went into so much depth, that I would like to share the essays here.

Dr. Waldkoenig asked me to elaborate on the incorporation of folk music traditions into my service Light into the World. What has emerged is an essay about my composition process, and about the importance of the service to me, and to my life.

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LIGHT INTO THE WORLD and ‘ROOTS’ MUSIC TRADITION

I don’t label the kind of music that I write as bluegrass or roots music. I grew up with folk music. Pete Seeger, Peter Paul & Mary, Joan Baez, John Denver. But all of those musicians learned from the ‘true’ roots musicians, from the blues and gospel singers, and from the early pioneers of ‘folk’ music, Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger, among others. It was only in college that I really became interested in ‘roots’ music, and started to explore the possibilities. Previously, I had only been interested in jazz and classical music, growing to proficiency on the piano first, and then the upright bass. (And for a brief time at the beginning of college exploring my pop side, playing my love songs for that perfect woman I hadn’t yet found for anyone who would listen!) My last year of college, I picked up a banjo and learned how to play, and I revived my folk harmonies, and had a good buddy who taught me country and bluegrass. I was hooked!

The terminology ‘Roots Music’ only came about in the last decade or so, during the latest revival of folk music following the “O Brother Where Art Thou” movie craze. There is a fantastic article written by Jeff Todd Titon about Ralph Stanley and his new popularity, as well as several others online (visit the Echo Journal online at http://www.echo.ucla.edu/volume4-issue2/folk/index.html) that speak to the ‘O Brother phenomenon,’ or the latest folk revival (‘roots’ revival).

Even the term ‘bluegrass’ has been co-opted by the latest folk craze, in much the same way the term ‘hootenanny’ was adopted by the 60’s folk movement. According to contemporary lingo, my music, too, could be referred to as bluegrass, but in actuality, it is far from it. Bluegrass is a kind of music invented by Bill Monroe, a pioneer of old time music who changed the music to such an extent that he was required to create new terminology to describe his modern and cutting-edge techniques in performance. Alison Krauss is the most famous ‘bluegrass’ singer, and yet, what she sings is nothing like bluegrass. She sings sweet ballads, mastered beautifully with pop techniques, and rarely sings anything that resembles the speedy quintet-instrumental style that Monroe developed. She plays bluegrass, but doesn’t sing it. Her band mate Dan Tyminski sings bluegrass when the band cranks it up a notch.

What I’m getting around to is that nothing is what it seems. Nothing is pure, and our terminology is often skewed. That said, we listen to music most often rather unconsciously, and express our enjoyment of it, little concerned about the details of its heritage or content, if we find it pleasing.

***

In no way, when I began writing Light into the World, did I write the service thinking that it would a ‘bluegrass’ service. Instead, I delved into the spiritual, musical, and theological issues within the liturgy, searching for meaning within the traditional constraints of the liturgical eucharistic framework. There is great depth there, and, to my frustration, a good deal of content has been benched in the last decades (with ‘contemporary’ and/or ‘praise’ musics) in favor of a simpler, smoother liturgy.

The musical aspects of this service came secondary to the scriptural aspects. After all, the melodies are far easier for me to find than the words. I strove for a simplicity of texts, simple chords so that children would be able to play the service as easily as adults, and singability. But at the same time, I wanted a spiritual, scriptural and musical depth to come through the music and fill the congregation with hope as they participated in the service.

So, after a roundabout beginning, to answer the question about how I have incorporated folk musical traditions from North America into my service, or any of my services, I must address two issues. 1) The aspect of soul. 2) The disparity of the music written for and played by youth and adults within the church body.

1) I have had a unique experience in music, as compared with many of my liturgical composition colleagues. Most contemporary composers are guitar playing folk musicians with other careers. And most traditional composers are organists or musicians within the church that have a practical training on an instrument, and in the performance of liturgy within a church context. I am a trained, PhD (almost) composer, and have been trained in all of the rudiments of composition, from Bach to John Cage, and have developed a unique approach. If you would like samples of my ‘art’ compositions (classical is incorrect terminology for any music created after Beethoven), please visit www.kentgustavson.com/performancemusic — this is music not created for use by people in the practical world, as was Bach’s music. This is art music created for the few academics who find the music accessible, engaging or stimulating.

The other side of my musical personality is as a performer and songwriter. We often think of figures such as Bob Dylan as composers, but in actuality their role in society is far different from that of a composer. They are far more practical, and accessible.

For me, my music sits uncomfortably between these two poles. That of accessibility, and that of intellect. So I made a decision to create music for the purpose it is designed for. When I compose for a congregation, I compose music that will suit that congregation. Both Light into the World and Mountain Vespers were created with specific congregations in mind. And simply because I created those two services, and am a sometimes performer of ‘roots’ music, I have been labeled as such by my contemporaries and the liturgical media.

I am comfortable in my awarded role as bluegrass composer of the Lutheran church, but disappointed that I have not found a way to become accessible to a more varied audience as of yet. I am working towards that end, and am very interested in helping to generate a movement of young composers composing music that will help to fuel the church into the next generation. We have to be very aware, as pastors, musicians, and lay people, that we include all ages, and all walks of life. We have a great disconnect on our hands now.

2) That brings me well to my next point. There is a great disparity between music intended for children and music intended for adults within the Lutheran church today. My music, I hope, is something that is accessible to both old and young, wealthy and indigent congregations. What we, for the sake of the ease, label as bluegrass, can really be a bridge between young and old congregants. Vocal harmonies set the older church members at ease, comfortably accompanied by non-electric instruments, leaving space for rumination and contemplation. Fast rhythms, new instruments, and loud singing inspires young people to participate. In short, what has been termed as ‘bluegrass’ or ‘roots’ within my music is fun, fast, easy to play and sing, and accessible to all.

***

It is time to break the traditions that have locked the church doors to young families and young people. But that doesn’t mean that we all have to listen to Rock’n’Roll in the church sanctuary. it doesn’t mean that we have to dumb down our liturgies to what we believe young people want to hear.

It makes sense to incorporate folk traditions into church services and habits, because those traditions are in some way familiar to us, connect us to our place, and fill us up with joy. I plan to write music in many traditions over the coming years, always searching to connect to congregations around the country, seeking to help them connect to God in worship and in prayer.

My goal is to be a chameleon. I have studied Arabic music, I have my degrees in classical music, and I am a performer of old time and popular music. But, foremost, I need to write the music I believe will be accessible to people in the church.

Unfortunately, a marketing spin must always accompany a liturgical venture. And once a label has been applied to a composer, liturgist or service, it creates a disconnect from all of the other styles that musician or liturgist might be comfortable, willing, or excited about exploring. If I write a Bach-like chorale setting of the Eucharist, it will be termed as bluegrass. That is an unfortunate side effect of the entire process, and something I never intended. I write the music that connects me to God, and I hope that others find the same connection in the singing and playing of the Gospel passages that I have condensed, re-worded and congealed into a little offering of worship.

Ideally, I wish I would be identified as the composer who inserted the line, “Let us pray for our enemies” into the sung liturgy, and the composer who reminded worshippers to remember children in our prayers. And the liturgist who brought back the true heart of the Agnus Dei texts: “Like a sheep led to be sheared, you did not open your mouth. Like a lamb you died for all of sin, you were broken and poor. You take away the sin of the world, you cleanse us from unrighteousness. We shall walk in light, as you are in the light. Have mercy on us. Grant us peace.” Most Agnus Dei settings have been simply condensed to, “Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world, have mercy on us, grant us peace.” What are we missing here!

And the liturgist who wrote, “Let us go as light into the darkness, as sunshine into night, where there is hunger or hatred, where there is no joy…” Let us go out into the world and make our mark. Let us fill the world with our light that we have found in Christ, and in the wonder of this message of peace, hope and love!

I don’t want to be SIMPLY the ‘bluegrass’ or ‘roots’ or ‘American folk tradition’ composer. I was just trying to find a medium that was both accessible to me, and to both young and old within the church. And my service was labeled and pre-packaged by others. Now I’m just along for the ride, trying to find my way through a tangle of friendships and failures, trying to carve out a niche for composers like me who have a gift to give, but no one willing to take it. I plan to work my entire life towards the goal of enriching the relationship between congregations and the music within their lives and worship. Because there is a great power in that connection, and if we neglect it, or if we ‘dumb it down,’ we are losing a great deal of what our religion and our belief, as Lutherans, is based on.

Ours has become a stale body, categorizing and isolating populations within the church body, forbidding gay pastors from preaching, and locking out styles of music that don’t quite fit. We need to look below the surface, and below the service, and see the messages, and the soul within. Let’s find our common rhythms, our common melodies. Let’s find our new Amazing Grace.

You all know Amazing Grace, but you don’t call it bluegrass. It’s certainly more bluegrass than I am, brought by a blind man from Appalachia to New York City on a Greyhound bus, sung for a small audience of intellectuals and folk musicians. Then sung by dozens of artists in a several year period in the early 1960s, recorded by Judy Collins, brought to Britain and performed on the bagpipe, eventually making its way back to the pipe bands playing for funerals of dignitaries.

We need to sometimes forget about the mirror and turn around, and see the world in a different way.

Whiskey Before Breakfast by Kent Gustavson on Google Video

Lars Clausen, Guinness World Record holding, unicycle riding, Lutheran pastor turned author, is a true champion of saying the unsaid.

His first book, One Wheel, Many Spokes (www.onewheel.org) was a great witness, and chronicled his journey through all 50 states in the name of native America — supporting the people of Alaska who had been his congregation.

In that book, Clausen delved into personal issues, and opened up his life to the reader… But his second book, Straight into Gay America, is far more intimate, far more vulnerable, and provides a window into the mentality of our nation today on the issues of homosexuality and personal freedom.

Clausen details his conversations with the liberal and conservative, with normal and ‘important’ people, and he opens up the wounds of his own personal journey, his own personal closet, as a straight unicycling Lutheran ex-pastor.

This is a story you MUST READ!

Enough said. Visit Lars at www.straightintogayamerica.com, or purchase the book at www.bloomingtwigbooks.com/shop

For a FREE E-BOOK of Straight into Gay America, please visit www.bloomingtwigbooks.com/siga/straightintogayamerica.html

Join the journey for Equal Rights!!