This is, literally, my musical diary–notes fresh from my pen and recorded in a few hours. You can find my finished works elsewhere; here, it's all about capturing the moment!
Sometimes people ask me how I come up with ideas for songs. It can happen in a variety of ways: sometimes I’m working with a text that suggests a particular melody; other times a particular series of chords proves fertile for development; I’ve even been known to write songs based on wrong notes I played trying to learn another song!
But in the case of “Stupid Things,” my dogs were my musical inspiration. They must have been doing one of their trademark stupid moves like wanting to go on a walk so badly that they can’t stop jumping long enough or me to put their leash on. I exclaimed, “You are stupid things!” and a song was born.
Update 1/25/22: Sheet music for this song is now available at gregscheer.com.
I continue to experiment with the intersection of Jazz and Psalmody. Will my experiments prove fruitful? Who knows. But I’ve learned that experimentation–play–is an important part of music growth, so I’ll continue to follow this path to see where it leads.
In this case, it led to Psalm 13, the loneliest of Psalms. It begins with the famous words, “How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?” Many people have set this Psalm to music, so it’s unlikely that anything I will say will be entirely original. In my setting, I cast the “enemy” named in the Psalm as depression. The clues are all there: endless sorrow, feeling forgotten, emotional turmoil–even the lethargy and over-sleep that often accompanies depression. The Psalmist poignantly prays to be seen: “Look on me and answer, O Lord my God.” Certainly, we’ve all felt some of this at some point.
Musically, I accompanied this sad Psalm with a descending chromatic melody, mirroring the emotional plunge that depression brings. The opening melody is also a large hemiola, with 3-note “how longs” against the 4/4 meter. It’s not the easiest song to sing; I’m not entirely sure how well a congregation would do with it.
As you listen to the recording, you may wonder “Who are those fine musicians accompanying Greg?” They are all virtual instrumentalists! This is my first foray into using Band-in-a-Box as part of my demo process. I would say it worked exceedingly well. (Now if we could just do something about that singer!)
How long? How long? How long, O Lord?
1. How long will you forget me? Will you keep turning away from me? How long to drown in sorrow? Lord, will tomorrow bring no relief? (refrain)
2. How long until you see me, until you save me from endless sleep? How long until your light shines and hope fills my eyes? Lord, rescue me! (refrain)
3. I trust in love unfailing; of your salvation, my heart will sing. How long to lift God’s praises? I will proclaim: you’re so good to me! (refrain)
Pastor Nate preached from Luke 14:15-24 last Sunday. The parable of the great banquet is compelling and comforting, but there aren’t a lot of songs based on this text. Charles Wesley to the rescue! In 1747, he wrote a beautiful hymn that turns this parable into a sung altar call. I found the text on hymnary.org and loved it immediately. The tune? Not so much.
In my opinion, my lively folk melody captures the urgency of the call to salvation in the text better than the staid hymn tunes traditionally used. I can imagine Charles and his brother John riding into a town on horseback, preaching a rousing sermon, then calling to the audience to come to Jesus. All while this song is sung by the town crier. (It’s my day dream; I’ll tell it any way I want!)
1. Come, sinners, come to the gospel feast, let every soul be Jesus’ guest. Let not even one be left behind, for God has called all humankind.
2. Do not begin to make excuse; do not his lavish grace refuse; your worldly cares and pleasures leave, and take what Jesus freely gives.
3. Oh, come and share the gospel feast, be saved from sin, in Jesus rest; O taste the goodness of our God, and eat his flesh and drink his blood.
4. See Christ set forth before your eyes; behold the bleeding sacrifice; his offered love make haste to_em-brace, and freely now be saved by grace.
5. All who believe his words are true shall dine with him and he with you; come to the feast, be saved from sin, for Jesus waits to take you in.
I first heard this catchy little Swahili song in the video below, which was recorded at my previous church. I am ashamed to admit that I know little about it except that it is sung in Swahili, a language spoken throughout East Africa. However, I was able to get my hands on the Swahili lyrics and a literal translation; from that, I created the translation and harmonization above. The beauty of songs like this is their simplicity. The lyrics are not deep and the music is not sophisticated–but it is heartfelt. It also leaves lots of room for a good leader to create new verses that fit the moment. (“We are listening,” “We will follow,” etc)
Each week as I plan worship services, I study the scriptures the preacher has chosen in order to plan music that fits their theme. I spend lots of time at hymnary.org searching for songs and often find things that are just about perfect, but use archaic language, are slightly off topic, or have unwieldy melodies. In those cases, I might “re-tune” the hymn or simply use the text as a launching pad for an entirely new song.
That was the case this week when I ran across John Chandler’s hymn “O Christ, Our Hope, Our Heart’s Desire,” a translation of the Latin hymn, “Jesu, nostra redemption, amor et desiderium.” It’s a fine hymn that fit Rev. Dale Cooper’s message “Eastered Living: Faith on Tiptoe” well. But the tune was…uninspiring.
I began by writing a new tune. That was the easy part, taking only 10 minutes. But then I went through a half dozen drafts of the original tune until it felt just right. In time I decided to write a new text that stayed closer to the theme of dying and rising with Christ. After much scribbling, erasing, and rewriting, I arrived at “O Risen Christ, Our Living Hope.”
1. O risen Christ, our living hope, our loving Savior whom we sing a grateful song of endless love a tune that flows from mercy’s stream:
Chorus How vast the grace, how great the love– as deep as any sea. You died our death and rose to life that we might live abundantly.
2. Long were we trapped in sin’s foul grasp– a darkened dungeon of despair– until you stormed the gates of death. Life filled our lungs, hope filled the air. Chorus
3. And now we live in Jesus Christ, those once discarded, now redeemed. Christ bore our death, we share his life, and all our days repeat the theme: Chorus
4. Were we to have a thousand lives and endless breath to sing your praise, no song could speak, no tongue express, no mind could know, no heart convey: Chorus
My blog has been quieter than usual because my time has been devoted to a super-secret, epically large composition. But I still try to find time for a little musical bonbon here and there. In this case, the musical bonbon is a short chorus written and rewritten in fits and starts throughout the day and recorded in the hour remaining before I had to leave for the day.
The idea started as I was contemplating an upcoming sermon on the road to Emmaus. It’s a great story: Jesus appears to the disciples after his resurrection, cleverly disguised as a fellow traveler. He blows their minds by explaining how all the prophets point to the Messiah’s death and resurrection. They invite him to stay with them, and at the evening meal, their eyes are opened as he breaks bread with them.
This 12 measure Gospel chorus attempts to distill some key elements of that story. “Abide with us.” Something about the stranger makes them want to spend more time with him. This is true for us, as well. Something about Jesus compels us to know him more–to abide, to dwell, to stay by his side. “Our eyes are opened.” The Spirit opens our eyes to Jesus, the Word of God. “Our hearts awoken.” The disciples, recalling their conversation with Jesus say, “Didn’t our hearts burn within us?” Indeed, Christ wakes something in our hearts that creates a desire for more.
Abide with us. Abide with us. Our eyes are opened, our hearts awoken, abide with us.
This week’s sermon at Fuller Ave Church follows the lectionary: The Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:1-17). This is not a passage that lends itself to a long list of inspiring songs! But as I researched the service, I kept thinking about the times that God promised to write the law on our hearts (Ezekiel 11:19 and 36:26, Jeremiah 32:39 and 31:33, and Hebrews 8:10). Soon I was at the piano writing this little bonbon of a Gospel chorus, “A New Heart, O God.”
It was refreshing to take a little break from some larger projects I’ve been working on. These short-form songs give me the opportunity to hone my craft in bite-size chunks in the same way a visual artist uses sketches to stay sharp. Specifically, this song gave me the opportunity to explore Jazz/Gospel harmonies and chord voicings. There’s lots of spice in there. (But I also wrote a “mild” version for churches who aren’t ready for the heat.) It also let me continue to experiment with drum miking. Last, but not least, I finally got an electric bass sound which I quite like.
A new heart, O God, for this heart of stone, and a spirit you’ve renewed. Write your law, O God, in my flesh and bones. Give me a new heart, give me a new heart, a new heart for you.
God’s omniscience. How do we speak about it without using hifalutin words like “omniscience”? How do we sing about it? And does this esoteric theological category have any bearing on our life and faith?
William Blake’s Ancient of Days
Hunter Lynch addresses these questions in his new text, “God of Knowledge, All-Consuming.” What I love about this is that Hunter begins with God’s omniscience as wisdom, mystery, and discernment, rather than painting God as a celestial Santa. (“He knows when you are sleeping.”) He quickly moves to how God’s endless knowledge matters to us humans–”you know my need.” In verse 3, he takes a turn from God knowing to God making himself known. In the final verse, we will no longer see “through a glass darkly,” but all beauty, truth, and mystery will be revealed.
I drafted three tunes for this text. Each had its merits, but after a weekend of living with them, both Hunter and I gravitated toward this one. It is both dignified and down-to-earth with a melody that wears well with repeated singing. For those who care about such things, I’ll make a few musical observations: The meter is very fluid. I finally decided on 3/4, but the pulse actually changes throughout. For example, I could have easily notated the first six beats in three measures of 2/4. Something I like about the melody is that the B at the end of the first and fifth measure–the leading tone–leaves you waiting for resolution until the high C at the pickup to measure 9. Musical geekery, I know, but these are the details that make a melody tick.
1. God of knowledge, all-consuming, source of wisdom’s flowing stream, shadowed depths from you hide nothing, every dormant secret seen. By your hand, which holds all mystery, bid me stand when answers flee; for in soaring breakers swelling, even there you know my need.
2. Were the fathoms of your nature fully seen by mortal eye, tongue would falter, mind would waver to describe such radiant light. Here on earth we see mere shadows of the beauty soon fulfilled, but what stands beyond our vision will in glory be revealed.
3. Unseen God, you gave us vision when in darkness we despaired. As we fell for lesser wisdom, mercy came our sin to bear. What a gracious, kind unveiling! Leaving glory, crown, and throne, God of knowledge, all-consuming, made himself to sinners known.
4. When my final breath is taken and the part is seen in whole, fleeting doubts shall be forsaken as my eager eyes behold God enthroned and Christ arisen, advocating for his own. Lord from whom no soul is hidden, hide me safely in your Son.
One of the traits that makes me annoying (among so many others) is my pursuit of perfection. I’m not a perfectionist in the traditional sense of the word–abusing myself for every short-coming–but I do seek excellence. (Making me an excellentionist?) In music, that means I edit relentlessly, striving to achieve “balance and beauty” as another song put it.
“The Perfect Song” started out with musings on this topic and then branched into all the other areas of life in which we can imagine something–we can practically taste it–but it remains just out of reach. Perhaps the thing’s elusiveness is part of its allure, our desire propelled by the dream of consummation.
What I like about this song is that it is exceedingly simple but asymmetrically balanced. Each verse ends with a space where a fourth line would ordinarily go; it is both balanced but seemingly incomplete. The same is true of the chorus. “Will it be enough?” repeats three times and feels like it should end with “enough for me” or something else to complete the thought, but instead it revels in the unfulfilled longing that is the very subject of the song.
What I like about the recording is that it counters the intimate simplicity of the vocals with moments of instrumental chaos–just like life. Yet somehow it all holds together: chaos without, order within, and a never-ending search for the perfect song.
1. I’ve been searching for the perfect song. I’ve been searching for the perfect song. But it’s been here all along.
2. I’ve spent my days chasing dreams. I’ve spent my days chasing dreams. So beautiful, but just out of reach.
Will it be enough?
3. I’ve been trying to find my place. I’ve been trying to find my place. But everywhere I go is already taken.
Harry Plantinga, the guru behind Hymnary.org, is fluent in computer code. But lately, all his work with Hymnary.org is rubbing off on him and he has also started writing hymn texts. “Joy” is a short, meditative lyric based on the writings of St. John of the Cross.
He asked if I “had an old hymn tune hanging around that would be good for this text,” preferably in a Taizé style. I’m sure he knew full well that it was unlikely I had a 9.9.9.9 meter tune just hanging around–and also knew that I am incapable of saying no to challenges like this.
Desire enjoyment in nothing, Nor knowing nor having nor being, To come to enjoyment in all things, To living and loving and seeing.
