There are no pictures of the studio to share.  I am glad there aren’t.  It was not about pictures yesterday at Al Fresco’s Place Recording Studio.  It was all about music.  It was all about songs.  I did some singing.  I did more singing than I ever planned to.  Some times you just have to follow the music.

My dear wife, Carrie and I showed up at Jeff Carpenter’s studio Sunday afternoon and the intent was to sing a few of the songs over again that we had already recorded.  It is a common practice in recording.  You do what is called a “rhythm track” first.  This is getting the drums, bass, and rhythm guitar parts in order to form the foundation of a song’s sound.  When you are pleased with that you decide what other parts can be layered on.  A lead guitar piece where you left room for as you were making the rhythm track…or some supplemental keyboard here or there…an organ bit…some fiddle…some banjo….whatever you can imagine. Perhaps even a triangle.

When the music layers are added and you feel good about that, you then go forward with re-singing in order to get a stronger vocal performance.  This time was a bit different in that regard.  The thing is we were pretty happy with the sound of some of the vocals on the original tracks.  They had a nice feel.  They were, shall we say, in the groove.  We looked at each other and wondered if we could do better…if I could do better singing again.

Well…it worked out.  I found a groove.  I found the pocket. I put on my headphones and heard sounds I had never heard before.  My voice, for whatever reason, responded in kind.  In three hours I must have sang twelve songs or so.  My voice was being pushed and it pushed back.  I would sing a song and drink some tea and sing another song and drink some more tea and sing another one harder and grittier than the last and I would drink some more tea.  It sounded so so good in my ear.  I sang my heart out and I doubt any of it will ever sound as good to anybody as it did for me in that moment.  Me included.  It was a beautiful thing to be a part of.

I truly think a few people listening to it will agree that it is the bet work we have done yet.  I was 33 years old the first time I recorded.  That was sixteen years ago.  Nearly a third of my life ago.  That is frightening.  Still, I could not be more pleased and thankful to have a great recording partner in Jeff Carpenter.  He knows what buttons to push on the control panel and the ones in me.  He can take my voice places I did not know existed.  I thank my Mom and my Dad and the rest of my genetic code for the ability to sing.  I thank Jefferson Carpenter for bringing that ability out in ways I never dreamed were possible before I met him.

My favorite song in this collection is called “That Sky”.  I wrote it on March 25, 2016 in Topsail, North Carolina.  It was inspired by a sky Carrie and I had witnessed the previous October near where we were sitting in March.

Though pictures can’t do that sky justice, I knew the night I saw it I would be carrying it with me…forever.

Me remembering, longing for, and writing about that sky.

And now I sing about it.

And speak the rights about it.

Danny Johnson

In my home office there is a basketball goal.  I bought it for my brother-in-law, Stevarino.  It remains here.  As I type he is waging war against the basketball goal I got at a great price thanks to Sams Club.

I just tried to take a picture of it…but my camera is out of battery!

I did make a shot, finally.

Good Shot!

That reminds me of the guy that got thrown out of the Greensburg, Indiana movie house.  He was watching Bambi.  When Bambi’s mom got killed he got up and hollered “Good Shot!”  That was not good.  But it is legend.

Legend.  That is a great word.

Do you know any legends?

I hope you do.  And instead of me talking about some…go think of a few.

And in turn…speak the rights.

Danny Johnson

The title of this post is no direct reference to the last few weeks on this orb.  I found a CD yesterday by Joe Cocker that came out in 2000.  It was called “No Ordinary World”.  The track by that name was written by Stephen Allen Davis and Lars Anderson.

I have always enjoyed listening to Joe Cocker sing.  His raspy voice is so so unmistakable.  He put his heart into his singing.  Cocker died in December 2014 at the age of 70. Known more as an interpreter of songs than a writer of them, I am sure many a songwriter was overwhelmed by the treatment Joe Cocker gave their songs.  “On My Way Home” is the song on this album I like the most.

35 years ago I was a fired up 13 year-old.  My Cincinnati Bengals were playing the 49ers in the Super Bowl.  Super Bowl XVI.  I thought that one was down the line of roman numerals.  That is what I got for thinking at 13.

Today I will be rooting for the Atlanta Falcons.  I hope they make it to the Super Bowl and I hope they win the thing.  I hate to root for the Steelers, but what is a man to do?  I don’t want the New England Patriots to be there in a position to leave up to hear about how great Tom Brady is all over again.  Pats fatigue.  I think it may be mention in the Physicians Desk Reference.

Last night I was fortunate enough to witness a great happening in the gymnasium at North Harrison High School.  The Cougars lost a heartbreaker…that was not great…but it was a wonderful effort…a great team effort.  They went down at the hands of the Salem Lions 68 to 67.  Salem came into the game with only one defeat on the season.  NH hustled and hustled some more.  It was an exciting performance.  I was really proud of the team.

The gym was also filled with Cougar Readers!  Elementary school students who earned recognition for reading a host of books and increasing their knowledge along the way.  The gym floor was filled with them.  Carrie used the camera last night.  She did take some pictures.  I don’t have them at the ready right now.  Perhaps they will make their way onto the page another time.

Another CD I bought yesterday, it was a good day, is by a guy named Mark Schultz.  He is a Christian artist.  That is the best way I can explain that, I think.  I must admit I don’t like to pigeon-hole musicians.  I am of the belief that music is a spiritual experience for those who write it.  There is a calling that either gets answered or it doesn’t.  That calling is also not always at the behest of goodness.  There is a great deal of evil music in the world in addition to the stuff that makes us happy.  You know the old adage “misery loves company”?  There are tunes for that too.  And it is sad.

For me, I have always been a fan of music that I think is positive, uplifting, and makes folks feel good, save my occasional listen to Pink Floyd.  What can I say?  David Gilmore’s guitar is great and I would pay to listen to Roger Waters read the phone book…not much…but I would pay something.  I won’t pay his price to see him in person.  Plus, I doubt that would really do me much good.

As a songwriter myself, I take what I am given.  I pray for guidance in word and music.  Sometimes the story is not always sweet and rosy.  Sometimes it makes me laugh.  Sometimes it makes me pause and count my blessing.  Always it is a joy to be able to play something that was not there ten minutes ago and keep it forever.  That is the good stuff.  Songs are the shortest of short stories.  They are still worth it.  Ever heard a little song called I Want to Hold Your Hand?

Or better yet the song I am listening to RIGHT NOW for the first time. Walking Her Home written and performed Mark Schultz.  Unreal.  Goose bumps.  Similar in message to his great song I Have Been There.  The images are amazing.  A masterpiece.  Sad as all get out.  But beautiful.

Speaking of beautiful, my dear wife, Carrie, just showed up to offer a few pictures to me from last night.  The Cougar Readers and The Cougar himself.

Ya gotta love the Cougar.

And just for fun, a pic of my Mother-in-law, Furl and Father-in-law, Michael, trying to impress us 1980ish types of their affinity for that era.  The Bengals did make it to two Super Bowls that decade.

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson

I wish I still had the cassette.  My Dad made the tape in the mid-1970s.  He made many of them.  When he discarded them, a few years after they were relevant to him, I found a way of, well, finding them.  

What were these tapes?  They were tapes of football coaches giving speeches at the old National Coaches Clinic in Louisville at the Galt House.  He went every year.  In the mid-1990s I went.  I was coaching football.  Twenty years earlier when I was 7, not 27, I came across a tape.  There were many, I can tell you.  But…there was this one that I kept coming back to long before I hit my 10th birthday.  

You know that scene in the movie “Rudy” about the kid who went to Notre Dame to play for the Irish.  It was his life’s dream.  There is a scene where he is listening to a recording of Notre Dame Coach Knute Rockne giving his team an inspirational address.  Rudy is a kid and he recites word for word along with Knute Rockne.  It is a very effective scene.  It is a scene I can relate to much more than most will ever begin to try to.

I was there.  I was listening to a speech given by a coach.  He could have been from Baylor.  He wasn’t.  He could have been from Auburn.  He wasn’t.  He could have been from Ohio State.  He wasn’t.  He could have been from Southern Cal.  He wasn’t.  He could have been from Colorado.  He wasn’t.  I reference a couple of these because when I went to the coaches clinic over twenty years ago I heard Bill McCartney from Colorado and I met and sat with John Cooper.  He was Ohio State’s head coach at the time.

It wasn’t one of these high profile guys I learned from as a child.  He was a Big Ten coach.  Ironically, of all the tape of coaches yammering away that I listened to, the one that I can still hear rattling around in my head is former Indiana University coach Lee Corso.  Yeah.  That Lee Corso…Gameday’s Lee Corso.

He gave a speech, much of which I can still recite and have referenced in writing.  He talked about discipline….team discipline.  Not making mental mistakes that cost the team in penalty yards.  Hanging on to the ball so you don’t cost the team by a fumble.  He was great.  

In the midst of his speech he yelled and emphatically repeated “You Gotta Have Respect for AUTHORITY!”  

It is Biblical, respect for authority.  Romans 13.  I know this well.  I referenced this passage once when I wrote a letter to a guy that I had interviewed for a job with.  I was ripping him a new one…but I spoke the rights when I told him that I understand the concept of respecting authority.  

That concept, “respecting authority” is putting me to the test these days.  I thought it put me to the test once upon a time when it was “all about me”.  Thought I knew something when I wrote that letter to the school administrator who turned me down.  

I didn’t have a clue.

I never thought in a million years I would be put in a position where I would have to compromise my respect for authority when it came to the office of the President of the United States.

I believed in the words Lee Corso talked of in his speech in 1970-something.  I would say a great many of the guys in the room that day believed him too.  I am not so sure what they believe now.

I have said it before…and I have said it with pride…I am a Republican.  I hope I don’t have to change that. I think my party will find its way once again some day.   But…I am convinced the President-elect has no concept of respect for authority.  He is too busy twittering…tweeting.  He is a computer boy…not a president.  

And for him to get in a war of words…or should I say “tweets” with the likes of John Lewis on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day…all I can say is…God help us.  God, you are the authority left for four more years.  Please see us through this mess without getting innocent people killed.  You, God, are our only hope.  I can’t rely on this president.  He has yet to find the high road. 

This is ironic, given that the “Evangelicals” supposedly got Trump elected.  God help us.  I am a Christian.  I still hold forth to the axiom from a great song I learned as a child…”And they’ll know we are Christians by our Love”.  

I have heard no love or compassion come out of Donald Trump’s mouth.  He is a walking, talking, tweeting cesspool.  How the Christian lemmings went over his cliff is beyond me.  I know a great many good people who, for whatever reason, sing the Trump Gospel.  We apparently came from a different place and time when we were learning the true Gospel. 

Love got left behind when Trump was elected President.

Can I respect this authority?  No…no I can’t.  I will sin for four years.  God forgive me.  

And God help the United States of America.  God save us.

Speaking the rights.

Danny Johnson

Remember how I wrote about not having great New Year’s Resolutions?    Knew what I was talking about, on that rare occasion.

I have not picked my guitar up this week..  I have not written another blog until now.  I have, however, made some progress.

The biggest obstacle I have had this week is the rhubarb that I have been in with the service I use to manage to get these words  out to the world.  Not my webhost….the service that puts me on the web.

Unlike most of you reading this, I do not have much “data” to work with during a month’s time comparatively.  I am extremely limited.  I pay through the nose for the data I have and it does not come easy and the service is well…pretty crappy.  My alternative?  Move to an area that is more internet friendly.  That ain’t gonna happen!

No one cares much about the discrimination one faces in the bottom of a holler when that one wants to be connected to the rest of the world with the ease that someone a mile up the road does for a third of the price!  Oh well.  As I said, no one cares.  They care enough to run a phone line down here…but not internet access.  I am relegated to relying on a satellite.  Imagine that.  I can sit here and type these words to be read using a satellite.  I am not sure I believe that.  How would we of even started that conversation in 1981?  We wouldn’t have.  We didn’t have little computers in our pockets either.  You know those little lines of demarcation you see on a timeline?  Those of us old enough to know are living on both sides of one of those little lines.  Look, I know things change.  It was Mr. Larry Martin’s 7th grade Geography class that taught me, Mr. Martin, to be specific, that…and I quote…”Change is a constant feature.”

To be sure, know that my mouth was wide open when I first saw so many cable television channels the first time.  My grandparent’s sitting room in Shreveport was the first place I saw HBO.  Watch a movie at home with no commercials?  No way.  Between then and the next decade not much changed as radically.  I had barely seen a Wal-Mart.  We were still eating cornbread with most of our evening meals.  I could count the number of pizzas I had eaten that did not come out of a box on two hands.

Change is a constant feature.

On Friday nights in January in Indiana, one thing has not changed.  It can be five degrees outside and a high school gym can still be hot with basketball action, artificial heat, and the heat of a coach and its fans giving a referee the business.  My dear wife, Carrie, and I witnessed all of those things last night in Austin, Indiana as the home team Eagles played the North Harrison Cougars.  North won by 24 points.  It was a good effort.

A high school gym in Indiana, and the smell of the hardwood floor and the popcorn coming from the concession stand is a thing to behold.  I am planning on going back to gym this afternoon and then to another one tonight.   Popcorn beware!

The NFL playoffs start this weekend.  The Giants play tomorrow.  Go Eli.  I am feared of this Green Bay team though.  They are on a bit of a roll.  I still think the Giants will take them.

I also am certain the Alabama Crimson Tide will dismantle Clemson for the NCAA National Championship.  Unless you are a diehard fan of one of these schools, this all may seem a bit anti-climactic.  Sorry, Brother Tim.  It is that way for me.  After the Rose Bowl was won 52 to 49 on the last play of the game, well, good luck with your TV Ratings ESPN.  But I will be watching because that is what I do.  Last Saturday was a sad day indeed.  The last College Football Saturday of the season.

Even a possum like Carl makes it Pasadena now and again.

Oh well, change is a constant feature.

Speaking the rights…

Danny Johnson

Happy New Year, everyone.

The sun came up again this morning. We knew it did in my neck of the woods.  How did we know?  The clouds in the sky were lit up…though there was no sphere to prove the brightness in sight.  At least, not for a while there wasn’t.

This was the sun coming over the hill behind the house the first time in 2017.

This was on the left side of the sycamore tree when the sun came up the first time in 2016.

The sun came up in 2015 over the Atlantic Ocean Jan. 1…Hilton Head.

We did have a nice visitor we got a photograph of this morning.

We got outfoxed a bit.  That was the best picture we could get.  He wanted to move around a bit and I can’t blame him.  We were in his way.

Here’s to 2017.

I hope things get better.

Like many old Republicans, I long for the party I remember.  I am convinced Donald Trump spends much too much time looking at his computer/phone/twitter account than he cares looking into what is best for the country.  Am I the only one thinking we are going to have to put up with a guy like Ebeneezer Scrooge…Ebeneezer Trump…the next four years?   At least Scrooge wasn’t attached to a computer.  The GOP will be sorry for this faux pas.

Resolutions for 2017?

I don’t have much to say about that…resolutions that is.

One thing I plan to do is shed a few more pounds.  After I was given bad news about my back in July, I cut down my exercise time.  My back is better.  I am looking into treatment.  The injury is over 30 years old.  Part of it.  The problem is that in the time I lacked exercise, I used part of that time to eat more vittles than I should.

Another thing I plan to do is play my guitar more.  I recorded 16 songs in 2016.  I wrote most of them in 2016.  I need to play more.  I need to hear those sounds.

I need to write more.  speaktherights.com has not had as many posts as I wish.  Days move quickly and I have not been given my writing the time it deserves.  Hope that this will happen as I hope it does this January 1st.

I need to write more words of thanks to folks that have influenced my life in a positive way.  A short few words that are heartfelt can make a huge difference in our lives.

I need to spend more time praying to God in Heaven above for guidance and give more thanks for the things I have been blessed with.  The older I get the less I seem to know (about a great many things).

I need to find new ways to be creative in doing a better job as a school counselor.  Things are changing in education.   There is more to keep up and be cognizant of than we ever imagined just ten years ago.  One thing has stayed constant, even when politicians and other adults try to screw things up, young people want to learn.  Thank God for that!  The young folks of today will learn from our mistakes, I have no doubt.  While we have been bumbling around with technology and social media so very recklessly in its inception, they will find a way to make things work smarter.  Technology has been our recent discovery of fire.  We have done a great deal of damage with this type of fire.

I need to never underestimate the amount of love and support I have out there.  Family, friends, co-workers, you name it.  I am a blessed man.  I hope I too can help along the way.

And along the way…I will…

Speak the rights.

Danny Johnson