Rock and Roll Church-Easter Sunday Edition

I find that most people seem fixated on performers they’ll never meet or know. But they are “famous” and I am not.

Not going to make any comparisons between JimBaumerMe–who has only been working with any diligence at his lo-fi rock and roll craft for slightly less than three years–and let’s say Bruce Springsteen (faux populist), Bob Dylan (always been a fraud) and John Prine (who seems to be everyone’s favorite these days). But sometimes, to read all the hagiographic bullshit posted about artists that you probably don’t even own a fucking record by is really maddening (and hypocritical, too). Playing live music, live or even streaming, is much harder than most of you who can’t even form one cowboy chord, realize. But I’m sounding angry and bitter (my perpetual state).

Anyways, I’ve got another Sunday Morning Rock and Roll Church episode (the Easter 2021 edition) up on the platforms. I have an MP4 also, if anyone tries to de-platform me for my “mealy-mouthed millennial blasts” and railing against TPTB (like Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, and the other tech elites that are trying to shut down any reasoned dialogue).

And, oh, btw: this isn’t scripted. The emotions you see—the anger, and then, the very real tears from a father with a broken heart who lost his only son—those are real. And for those who walked away when things got too hard, there’s a song for you, too.

Lastly—where are all of Mark Baumer’s friends/fans these days? Just curious. His commitment is still worth considering in an age where everyone’s a bumper-sticker/front-lawn sign activist. Jesus certainly wasn’t.

For those who prefer to stream music on your phone or other device (in your car??) rather than watch video, I uploaded the audio track to SoundCloud. “Bumped” the mix a bit, too and took out the gaps and pauses.

Rock and Roll Church-Sunday, March 7/Do You Want to Get Well?

Rock and Roll Church this week was pre-recorded earlier in the week. It makes for a “less bumpy ride” than dealing with stream issues. Plus, it gives people some flexibility in being able to watch/listen if Sunday morning don’t work for them.

Time: March 7, 2021

Location: First Congregational Bunker Rock Church of Low-Fi Salvation

Host: JimBaumerMe (music)     Rev. Jimi (sermon and edification)

Set 1:

Sermon:

Set 2:

Note: I mentioned “Burkean Conservatism and John Michael Greer” in my sermon and a link. Here it is.

Good Friday Rockin’

For a lapsed Catholic like me, Good Friday will always be imbued with the following memory:

I think I was eight or nine-years-old and attending a Good Friday mass at the old Holy Family Church on Lisbon Street (across from the former location of Morse Brothers). Like most Good Friday marathons, this one involved way too much standing for a young boy.

A re-enactment of Jesus’ crucifixion.

At some point on that April Friday afternoon in what was likely 1970 or 1971, the room began to wobble and my legs felt like they wanted to give way. I didn’t know it at the time, I was close to passing out. Fortunately for me, I sat down in my pew. My mother looked over and under her breath, sternly barked, “stand-up Jimmy!!” No concern for my well-being, only that I maintain our holy facade. I looked at her with what were probably pleading eyes, and struggled back to my feet. Somehow, I managed to make it to the end of whatever torturous section of the “festivities” were in-progress.

If you’ve followed my post-Xian posts, you’ll know this experience wasn’t enough to disavow me of religion’s influence on my life. It would take Indiana and Jack Hyles to come close to finishing the job, and then, the Vineyard and Ralph Grover to finally nail that coffin shut on God and evangelicalism’s false promises (and premise).

They say that when you leave behind something as formative as religion, you should put something in place and begin new traditions. A substitute, of sorts.

Hearing “Good Friday” by Cleveland’s Death of Samantha played on this morning’s “Breakfast of Champions” slot on WMBR made me realize that rock and roll has become a more-than-sufficient stand-in for God in my life.

Here are two selections that fit perfectly from where I sit today on this non-religious holy day for me.

A Better Pope

I was raised Catholic. At some point, Catholic theology became irrelevant to me and my life.

Later, I got into born-again-ism. That was okay for a time. Then it wasn’t. Something about Brother (Jack) Hyles not liking blacks riding on his First Baptist Church buses.

Mary and I were 23 with a son who wasn’t quite two when I realized that moving nearly half-way across the country to follow God had been a mistake. Jack Hyles was a phony. That was part of Mark’s history, too.

I wrote a bit about my Catholic experience in a previous book of essays. The essay was called “The Altar Boy.” My family of origin didn’t really like it. What I wrote was true, though. And I really don’t give a damn what people who’ve abandoned me time-and-time again think. I didn’t then, I don’t now.

Last night, Mary and I began what will be a new chapter in our lives of grief and loss without Mark. Periodically, we’re going to get out of the house and do something a bit different during the week. Like going to see a movie.

At the movies: Pope Francis

The Eveningstar Cinema, a place where we’ve both been seeing films since it opened in 1979 has undergone a makeover. New seats, carpeting, and a digital marquee out front (not the old climb-a-ladder-to-post-a-film-announcement signage that’s been there forever) make it seem a bit more 2018 (or at least less pre-Reagan). I’m pleased that Barry’s still in the movie business. All of us film buffs are better for it, even if his demographic seems to be getting older all the time. Continue reading

Dreams and Songs

I’m not a poet. Many years ago I wrote some bad poetry and sent it into the college literary magazine at UMO. This was during my freshman year, and my poems got soundly rejected. I now leave the work of poetry to my son, Mark.

I mention poetry and a particular work of poetry for a reason that will soon become apparent.

John Berryman was a popular poet during the 1960s when it seems poetry was ubiquitous in America. That period was many things—both good and bad. It was a time when artists (and poets) had more cultural cred, or so it seems now in retrospect.

"The Dream Songs," by John Berryman

“The Dream Songs,” by John Berryman

Continue reading

Fear and Hatred

Thirty years ago, I thought I had all the answers. At 21, life seemed simple in some ways. Economically, things sucked—I was working at a job that paid 25 cents above minimum wage and I had a newborn son and wife to take care of. I was 1,500 miles from my family and support system in a post-industrial part of the country where the unemployment rate was hovering around 15 percent. But I was okay because I was in the center of God’s will.

It’s interesting when you believe that the answers to life’s questions are contained in a book that was written by men who lived 2,000 years ago. Whenever things didn’t go right for Mary and me, the solution offered by our spiritual leaders was to pray, give more money to Jack Hyles, and drag a few more converts down the aisle to get baptized at First Baptist Church of Hammond. Continue reading