And with the early dawn
Moving right along
I couldn't buy an eyeful of sleep
And in the aching night under satellites
I was not received
Built with stolen parts
A telephone in my heart
Someone get me a priest
--Audioslave, "Show Me How to Live"

What kind of paradise am I looking for
I've got everything I want still I want more
--Ani DiFranco, "Grey"

I tried but can’t find refuge in the angle
I walk the mystery of the curve
– Sam Phillips, "Five Colors"

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant –
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm delight
The Truth’s superb surprise
– Emily Dickinson

Language – given to us to glorify God, to receive the revelation of God, to witness to the truth of God, to offer praise to God – is constantly at risk. Too often the living Word is desiccated into propositional cadavers, then sorted into exegetical specimens in bottles of formaldehyde. We end up with godtalk.
–Eugene Peterson

I know right!
–me

Steve Vai fulfills lifelong dream, meets Fr. Charles Klamut

It was October 31, 1999.

I had tickets to see Steve Vai with some friends at the now-defunct Firehouse in St Louis. I learned that he was signing autographs at Guitar Center earlier that day. YES!!! Now’s my chance!

The store was crawling with kind of scary musician guys in costumes, since it was Halloween. And a few reluctant girlfriends. Lots of warlocks, grim reapers, and some guys with silver face paint (?). Well, Vai was the devil’s guitarist in “Crossroads,” I guess.

After a long time waiting in line, it was finally my turn to meet himself. I was nervous. What do I say to this ultra cool living guitar god, the alien with freakish chops? I sat down next to him and shook his hand. His first words to me were “nice costume.”

Huh? Oh yeah... the priest outfit. I was an earnest, zealous new priest, representing in full clerics.

“Oh. Thanks. Actually, I really am a priest...”

Uncomfortable moment. Not sure Steve knew what to say.

“Have you ever had any priest fans before?” I asked stupidly.

“No I don’t know too many priests. Just Judas Priest.”

I sat there gaping. I barely heard him. I was staring at his huge hands, thinking of what they could do to a guitar.

“That’s a joke, Father. You can laugh.”

“Oh yeah. Right!” Ha ha.

I gave him the Guitar Center promotional flyer for him to sign, which he graciously did. Then my buddy Joe took our picture. One of the silver guys can be seen in the background.

“Well, it was great meeting you,” I said.

“Yeah you too. Enjoy the show tonight!”

As I got up to leave, I remembered... the tape! (This was the tail end of the tape era). I had made him a tape of some of my songs, featuring my awesome shredding on the guitar.

“This is for you,” I said, fumbling through my pockets, retrieving the tape and handing it to him.
He looked at it numbly, then back up at the long line of remaining fans. He was probably wondering how much more of this he could take.

“It’s some of my stuff. I wanted you to have it. You’ve been a big influence on me,” I said.

Turns out that for this particular tour there was a contest being held, which I was, alas, unaware of until that hour, in which guitarists could submit their playing to Steve and he would choose the best one to come on stage and play with him at the show.

“It’s actually a little late for this, I’ve already listened to the submissions and made my choice,” he said kind of apologetically.

“Oh, yeah. Don’t worry about it. I just wanted you to have it anyway.”

What I didn’t tell him was...

I had slipped my business card in with the cassette! It had my number and e-mail. You see, I knew he would be in Peoria the next week at the Madison, and I couldn’t come to the show (I think I had a wedding rehearsal). I envisioned him and me hanging out in P-town, having some beers, talking God and music, jamming together...

It’s the closest I think I have come to crossing the line into weird stalker-dom. I was genuinely surprised when that next Friday night came and went and Steve Vai never called me to hang out and jam. I was a little sad.

THE END

Elly Benin from the Peoria Examiner wrote an article on Jessamyn & Charles. Click here for more:

www.examiner.com/x-41099-Peoria-Catholicism-Examiner~y2010m7d25-Jimmys-hosts-local-dynamic-duo

Last night we played at Jimmy’s. Broke guitar (bad start). We finished our 28 song set a half hour early (oops). I then whipped out some Bon Jovi and Guns n Roses, betraying my strong bias towards 80's rock anthems. Had lots of fun. Played barefoot. Got free Guinness on the house :)

I got to see lots of my former students. They arrived more or less after the show had ended. Oh well, it’s the thought that counts. It was great to see them.

After the show I went to a hobbit birthday party hosted by “Samwise,” Lord of the Rings class veteran. It was not his birthday. There was LOTR paraphernalia all around. There was even a hobbit hole, in the form of a fully pitched tent in the living room. Guests wore costumes. I came straight from Jimmy’s so couldn’t bring my Gandalf sword and wizard hat.

As you know, hobbits give other people presents on their own birthday. He fulfilled the role admirably. There were stuffed toy cats and chickens, old fashioned mugs, a doctor’s outfit, and a flip video camera. All wrapped with love in old newspapers. There was a horn of Gondor for me, but the guy who was supposed to bring it didn’t come :(

Teaching at Notre Dame has led to so many great friendships. I am so blessed.

This just in from Dan MacIntosh, a reviewer from Indie-music.com:

There's something undeniably odd about the folk-pop Charles Klamut writes and performs. It just comes off as old-fashioned at times.

Both "Go West" and "7 More Stories" feature Klamut with a female vocal. Strangest of all is "You Don't Interest Me" which has what can best be described as white folk man rap. It's curious stuff, but nevertheless compelling. Klamut may be young, but he sounds old before his years.

At almost 37, it feels great to be called young.

“White folk man rap.” That is awesome. I’ve actually been questioning my whiteness lately. I took the quiz from “Stuff White People Like” and only scored 34 out of 150. According to the scoring table, that makes me only like 20% white. But I actually have always feared I have been TOO white and lived uncomfortably with that. I’m so confused.

However, I did recently add Arcade Fire’s Funeral to my iPod.