Cathedral

Hymns Through The Centuries; Cathedral Choral Society at Washington National Cathedral

I like cathedrals. And it doesn’t seem to matter that I’ve gone to many of the largest in the world. Nor do I bother to make that distinction that a cathedral is the “seat” of the bishop. Cathedrals are old stone Christian churches that are huge. That’s a good enough definition for me.

A friend once told me that he liked opera because it doesn’t make any sense. A stage full of people who are trained to sing as loud as humanly possible accompanied by a massive orchestra of musicians in front of towering sets all endeavor to persuade you to temporarily suspend your perspective of reality in order to accept this farcicle spectacle as an alternative using songs, choruses, ballets, duets, trios, quartets, fugues, intermezzos, Te Deums, Habaneras, Valkyries, Giants, Counts, Barons, Bohemians and sometimes elephants. Really, now, what part of my perceived reality would you suggest I suspend?

Anywhere from 600 to 100 years ago, an enormous number of men convened over the course of 80 to 150 years to extract stone, employ architectural techniques on a scale of moon-landing technology, erect scaffolding that climbed 200 to 300 feet straight up, in order to raise a mammoth structure big enough to … what? Oh, yeah. Worship God. Whose son declared that “wherever two or more are gathered in my name, there I am in the midst of them”. Matthew 18:20

The concept makes no sense. It is utterly impractical from any standpoint. And yet these edifices have been constructed so soundly as to last millennia, with a sincerity of motive to match the integrity of faith of the humblest disciple, and with astounding prospect of the dimension and immeasurability of the Everlasting. All of this they accomplished with a singularity of purpose: to assemble a spot deemed worthy for the worship and praise of God Almighty. Allow me here to state with deferential understatement, cathedrals make me speechless.

I have gone to Washington, DC’s, own National Cathedral a number of times. It is the sixth largest of its kind in the world. And despite being completed somewhat recently, 1990, it still took 83 years before it stood finished. My mom came to visit it a couple of times and was taken with it like I was. She likes the stain glass windows.

But to remember her first trip to the National Cathedral, she purchased a CD of the Cathedral Choral Society of the National Cathedral singing hymns with the Great Organ, Carillon and Peal Bells. Other CDs of this sort that have appeared on this blog have been over the top with their arrangements. Not here. All is subdued. The choir at our National Cathedral doesn’t want you to think it’s too uptown, too big for its buttresses. The emphasis isn’t on good choir singing. Just good, refined hymn singing.

One of the best books I ever read is called “Pillars of the Earth” by Ken Follett. It’s a sweeping epic about the building of a cathedral in the early 12^th century. I read it in 1992 and recommended it to my older sister K. (Although she thinks she recommended it to me.) K. holds the book in the same regard as I do. We both thought it would make an awesome mini series. And we had almost given up all hope. Then, this fall I happened to catch an announcement that “Pillars of the Earth” will be broadcast in 2010. I e-mailed my sister the website declaring, “!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”. She replied with, “OMG !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”.

Credits: To Ken Follett, for writing one of the biggest stories in literature. Thank you.

Star Trek and James Bond

Goldfinger; Shirley Bassey

My Dad, my sisters and I were very healthy TV viewers in the 70’s and early 80’s. We didn’t have cable TV, and ABC was a seldom visitor to the antenna stuffed in our attic. But we didn’t miss out on much. Let me see if I can remember the carousel of shows that took a turn on our screen.

Gilligan’s Island, My Three Sons, The Carol Burnett Show, MASH, The Love Boat, Fantasy Island, Dallas, Simon and Simon (Dad called it Simeon and Simeon), Falcon Crest (Dad called it Falcon Hearst), The Rockford Files, Cannon, Lou Grant, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Rhoda, Phyllis, The Bob Newhart Show, Mannix, Hawaii 5-0, Barnaby Jones, The Muppet Show, The Flip Wilson Show, Petrocelli, Cagney and Lacey, Barney Miller, Night Court, Sonny and Cher, The White Shadow, Welcome Back, Kotter, Baretta, Columbo, McCloud, … How’m I doin’? … Newhart, Happy Days, Mork and Mindy, Laverne and Shirley, Hart to Hart, Switch, Charley’s Angels, All Creatures Great and Small (That was on PBS.), All In The Family, Little House On The Prairie, The Jeffersons, Maude, The Waltons, The Wild Wild West, Knot’s Landing, Too Close For Comfort, Three’s Company, Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom, and __ number of years of The Tonight Show. I’m done.

I’m reminded of a quote from Al Bundy on Married With Children, who asked, when someone pointed him in the direction of a “lady of the evening”, “Why would I want to go out and eat steak when I have a cow at home?” Our TV watching time didn’t really allow us to go out to the movies very often. Or, probably more accurately, a night out at the movies for two adults and three kids, even in the 70’s, was a little spendy for a farmer and his family. TV was free.

Every once in a while, Mom would see that something quality was showing at the theatre that we kids could watch. Like Benji, The Cat From Outer Space, Freaky Friday, The Black Stallion and all the animated Disney movies.

In 1977, my sister D. and I talked our cousin W. into going to see Star Wars. As a matter of principle, she had been resisting going to see this movie. Then she saw it and she liked it. We also got her to go see The Empire Strikes Back a few years later. I think she liked that one, too.

But it wasn’t until my buddy Steve N. made me go see Star Trek III: The Search for Spock that I watched a movie without a net; something that hadn’t been “screened” by my parents. Now, don’t laugh. I encourage you to look at the second paragraph above. There is no Star Trek listed. Star Trek aired on ABC. We couldn’t get ABC. That’s why we couldn’t watch The Six Million Dollar Man or The Bionic Woman. I knew that there was a character with pointy ears on Star Trek and that was it. I had no background. I really struggled to keep up with what was happening. A few nights later, I went to see it again with Pastor B., a Star Trek fan, who could tell me the television history of these characters and its significance to the plot of the movie. That was the first time I saw a movie twice.

The same thing happened, on a much smaller scale, with me and James Bond. My first Bond flick was “A View To A Kill”. I hadn’t seen any others before that one. Not even on television. So I had to have a few things explained. But I liked it. Eventually, with the advent of the VCR, I was able to catch up on the Star Trek and 007 movies.

And I remember, when watching Goldfinger, that I had to stop the tape after the opening credits so I could listen to the song again. Fortunately, we were in my dorm room and I could dictate how many times we could rewind and listen to the song again. We listened to it four times.

Shirley Bassey. Tore. That. Song. Up! I had never heard anyone sing a movie title like that before. After everyone went home that evening, I rewound the tape to the song eight more times before taking the movie back. To this day, when Mr. Bond and Mr. Goldfinger show up on one of the cable channels, I’ll stop what I’m doing to listen to Ms. Bassey throw it down.

A few years ago, A. D. sent me a link to a clip of Shirley Bassey singing the best Bond song of them all on The Muppet Show. I didn’t remember Ms. Bassey being a guest on TMS. One day recently, when I felt rich, I downloaded “Goldfinger” from iTunes, so that I wouldn’t wear out a videotape.

Credits: To Ian Fleming, for an exotic creation that’s laced with style, humor and action. And to Gene Roddenberry, for a thoughtful creation that’s imbued with the wonder of science, humanity and the possibility of what could be. Thank you.

Timing, Part II

Gloria, The Sacred Music of John Rutter; The Cambridge Singers; The Philip Jones Brass Ensemble; The City of London Sinfonia; John Rutter, conducting

Chip Davis - yes, I’m still talking about Chip Davis – toured with the Norman Luboff Choir for a few years in the early 70’s. Then landed a job writing jingles for an advertising agency in Omaha, NE. While having some fun and doing some crazy bank writing trucker songs, and even garnishing the ASCAP Country Music Writer of the Year Award in 1976, he was anxious to get his more serious compositions performed. He submitted some of his work to Omaha choral conductor Mel Olson, who graciously premiered Mr. Davis’ music on his concerts with the Voices of Mel Olson. And it was during this time that Chip Davis certainly would have met John Rutter.

Mel Olson had commissioned John Rutter to compose a setting of the Gloria. Gloria is the Hymn of Praise, the second section of the Ordinary of the Mass and is typically sung in Latin. The text comes from the Angels announcing the birth of Jesus in the second chapter of the Gospel of St. Luke.

Mr. Rutter wrote the piece in the traditional three movement structure, like a symphony or a concerto. And, true to convention, he uses a version of fast-slow-fast that he describes as “exalted, devotional and jubilant”. The outer movements contain elements and an overall nature of a fanfare in the style of William Walton. The middle movement delivers a haunting and ethereal temperament

This is a concert piece. It captures brilliantly the mystique, wonder, joy and even a little bit of the fear experienced by the shepherds who witnessed a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace, good will toward men.” And, though that’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown, it’s too big of a setting to sit with its siblings in a daily Mass choir stall. So, it is a constantly tramping pilgrim, forever on tour and estranged from a liturgical home, proclaiming a Messianic birth announcement to those who can afford concert tickets. My job in this work is to refrain from getting lost in the music and to find myself on the ground with the shepherds, anticipating the time where I, like the shepherds, will come face to glorious face with my Messiah.

Mel Olson personally invited John Rutter to conduct the world premier of this work in Omaha, NE, in 1974. Chip Davis must have had the opportunity to do a networking job with Mr. Rutter, for some nine years later, Mr. Davis was in need of a choir to help the listener of Fresh Aire V accurately place Johannes Kepler at the beginning of the 17^th Century. John Rutter’s Cambridge Singers set the tone of the album with a Gregorian chant, declaring: Lumen ad revelationem gentium et gloriam plebis tuae Israel: A light to the revelation of the Gentiles and the glory of thy people Israel.

I have heard tell that a pianist should learn the Brahms Piano Concerto No. 2 in B-Flat Major when at a relatively young age. And then put it away for ten to fifteen years, because no artist younger than 30 years of age is in possession of enough expressive and emotional depth to carry off the masterpiece in the manner that Mr. Brahms intended.

In 1987 at SDSU, the Concert Choir performed the Rutter Gloria. I considered it at the time one of the great compositions of all time and anxiously awaited my next opportunity to indulge in its excesses. It’s twenty-two years later and preparations for a performance have been underway for several weeks. It’s fun to play the orchestral transcription on the piano. It’s nice to get reacquainted with an old friend. But the scope of maturity that I had hoped to swim laps in came up to my knees.

Mr. Rutter puts on a good show, everything that a young, energetic adventure-seeker would want to find. It’s dazzling. Anyone who hears it the first few times won’t be disappointed. But it’s a short ride in a fast machine. It’s the Oreo crème without the chocolate. It’s the tenth time on the Crazy Mouse on the same day at the State Fair.

Credits: To Chip Davis, for resilience in the face of rejection, for knowing that your vision and product is right when experts declare that it’s wrong. And for availing yourself of opportunities that were cast to you perfect in the timing: a CB craze and a CD craze. You’re the patron saint for artists who have something new to say.

Timing, Part I

Fresh Aire V, Mannheim Steamroller

In the 1970’s, when I was in elementary school, there was an epic TV commercial series that took my family and the rest of the Midwest by storm and, through its absolutely charming plot, captivated its audience over the course of fifteen to twenty “episodes” like a mini mini-series. C.W. McCall was a truck driver for the Old Home Bread Company and, with his dog Sloan, became a regular at the Old Home Filler-up And Keep On Truckin’ Café. The reason McCall returned some fifteen to twenty times to this café was found in the waitress, a pretty little “thing” named Mavis. Each segment, one minute long each, would get airplay for about 6 weeks before a new one would play. When was the last time you saw a commercial that lasted 60 seconds? The last commercial, which played, by the way, some two years after the first one, found a diamond ring on Mavis’ finger.

One Sunday, late in the 70’s, Mom, Dad, my sisters and I went to the Brookings Mall to see the people who played C.W. and Mavis. It was the largest crowd that the mall ever had. And they auctioned off “the” diamond ring. My mom’s cousin M. won it. I remember seeing his picture on the front page of The Register, big as life, getting a big ‘ol kiss from Miss Mavis.

The music for these commercials is officially called sprechgesang (German for speaking and singing) and is similar to Johnny Cash and his song “One Piece At A Time”, where he mostly just said the words in time to the music. The CB craze in the 70’s coincided with this TV commercial series, helping to propel this phenomenon into TV commercial history. The words for this two year ad blitz were written and sung(?) by William Dale Fries of “Convoy” fame. And the music was written by Chip Davis. Yup. Chip Davis from Mannheim Steamroller.

He took his Old Home fortune and built a recording studio in his home where he could record his music. Mr. Davis’ musical vision was a sort of, as he calls it, “18^th Century Classical Rock”. He called his creations “Fresh Aire”, or new song. And over the course of four albums, each one dubbed “Fresh Air”, he would combine rennaisance instruments with rock beats and synthesizer sounds. American Gramaphone Records got its start with his first four CD’s, but it took off with Fresh Air V.

Johannes Kepler and his dream was Davis’ inspiration for what to me sounds like a movie soundtrack. Kepler’s Dream is a 17^th Century telling of a fantasy trip to the moon, about escaping the earth’s atmostphere, visiting the creatures who lived on the moon and returning to earth. Astronomers and astrophysicists through the ages have honored Mr. Kepler by deeming this treatise as the birthplace of modern astronomy and the first draft of science fiction. Mr. Davis, in his musical lunar adventure, is careful to note that Mr. Kepler writes about awakening from his dream amidst a thunderstorm.

Many characterize this music as “New Age”. I don’t like to do this. “New Age” to me refers to a modern religion involving crystals and feeling carma. Composers have written music to specifically enhance one’s experience with this type of spiritualism. Though Chip Davis’ music can and does at times resemble this genre of music, it serves a completely different purpose. This is story-telling music. And we’re not out delivering bread. We’re on a ship and we’re going to the moon.

When Mr. Davis built his recording studio, it was at the beginning of audio digital technology and the CD age. To close the tale of Kepler, he pulled a brilliant artistic marketing stunt. He digitally sampled forty-two seconds of a rain storm, with splattering raindrops and a huge clap of thunder, to represent the awakening of Mr. Kepler at the end of his vision and this recording.

Millions of CD player buyers in the 80's wanted to hear the difference between a cassette audio tape and a CD. Davis had this CD sent to every audio outlet store in the country, so that “The Storm” could serve as an example of digital technology. And after presumably being soccer-punched with the theretofore unknown, crystal-clear clarity of a digitally sampled thunderstorm, and after probably looking outside to see if it was raining, most consumers wanted to buy Fresh Aire V as one of their first, if not their first, CD. It was one of mine.

Chip Davis must have made an awful lot of money as a musician writing jingles for a bread company because he was able to hire the London Symphony Orchestra for the final track. He was also able to hire another group …

Credits: To Johannes Kepler, for his ability to dream and to look at the stars and the moon from a perspective of wonder, giving virtue to his meanderings by writing them down in the hope that, as science progressed, others could continue his thoughts when he could go no further. The more we learn about the heavens, the more wondrous they become. Thank you, Mr. Kepler.

Veteran songs

American Dreamer, Songs of Stephen Foster; Thomas Hampson, Jay Ungar, Molly Mason, David Alpher

My identity with Veteran's Day is with pancakes. Since as early as I can remember and clear up through college, Dad would rouse us from sweet, sweet sleep on November 11 to cram into a cold, cold car to get a plate of free, free pancakes down in Brookings. We would stand outside the Elks Club in a slow moving line in thirty degree temperatures with families of veterans from all over the county to receive recognition for service to God and country in the form of pancakes, sausages and milk from a grateful organization.

My identity with Veteran’s Day is with Snoopy, who on this date each year would put on his “Ike” jacket and go over to Bill Mauldin’s house to quaff root beers and swap war stories. While enlisted in the Army during World War II, Mr. Mauldin’s cartoon characters Willie and Joe would stoically suffer the indignities, dangers and difficulties of enlisted men on duty in the field of battle. One such cartoon has the boys listening to the Sarge declare that he needs “a couple of guys what don’t owe me no money fer a little routine patrol.” Mr. Mauldin won the Pulitzer Prize in 1945 at the age of 23 for his collection of “Willie and Joe” cartoons after being awarded the Legion of Merit from the Army.

My identity with Veteran’s Day is with a speech I heard at a Veteran’s Day ceremony on November 11, 1994, while working on board the Star Odyssey. A retired Colonel was venting his frustration that his high school aged grandchildren couldn’t tell him anything about the Battle of Leyte Gulf. I wanted to crawl under the hull. I had a master’s degree and bore the intellectual type of disposition that claims, "I love trivia, ask me anything", and I couldn’t tell you anything about this battle. I stampeded toward the closest bookstore in the closest port to get the closest and most comprehensive book on World War II so that I could say that if I didn’t know about it, at least I’d heard of it.

And my identity with Veteran’s Day is with another visit to my CD store in Nice, France, on November 11, 1993, where Angel Records had just released in Europe this collection of Stephen Foster songs featuring American Baritone Thomas Hampson. For generations, Mr. Foster’s songs served up the main course in piano lesson books and general song books. Even as late as the 1970’s, there was an urgency in the public schools to learn folk songs that we could all lay claim to as Americans.

The Great American Melting Pot is awesome, the idea and likes of which hasn’t been seen since the Library of Alexandria in Ancient Egypt. The very best contributions from over a thousand lineages, customs and traditions can create nothing short of a paragon of cultural richness and excellence. But it comes at a cost. I have seen Irish strangers sing one lusty Irish song after another for hours. The ritual of the German drinking song is the creed of the Hofbrauhauses in central Europe. And there are Swedish folk songs, and Danish folk songs, Russian folk songs, Hungarian folk songs, Jewish folk songs, Welsh, Spanish, Mexican, Brazilian folk songs … and the folk who live in these large and small communities know every word of their songs. The overflowing wealth of songs that would comprise the Great American Tome of Music … is too big. There are too many broadway songs, too many country western songs, too many rock songs, jazz songs, blues songs, 40’s songs, 50’s songs, etc.

But there was a time in our American history where a small, yet rich, selection of folk songs was a binding force. You, my fellow American, here with me in this foxhole, I don’t really know who you are, neither of us know when the enemy is coming, we're hungry and we're thirsty and if we’re not scared, we’re certainly anxious. But we both know this song. Sing with me.

‘Tis a hungry, thirsty soldier who wears his life away /

In torn clothes – his better days are o’er.

And he’s sighing now for whiskey in a voice as dry as hay /

“O, hard tack, come again no more!”

‘Tis the song, the sigh of the hungry: /

“Hard tack, hard tack, come again no more.”

Many days you have lingered upon our stomachs sore /

O hard tack come again no more!

It can be argued that the performance of these songs on this CD is couched in too much velvet in a parlor only the rich can afford to see. I think it’s a mistake, however, to assume that 150 years ago you and I would be complete outsiders to style and finesse. Mr. Hampson and his friends recognize the value of this music, and have deemed it to be every bit as important as a first flag, a Civil War cannon, a Battle of Saratoga bullet, and a manifest list from a ship in the Battle of Leyte Gulf. To honor the memory of Stephen Foster, to honor the memory of millions of Americans who have connected in the best and worst of situations by virtue of these songs, to honor anyone who has breathed a single second of American Life, this group of folks on this CD have decided to sing these songs in the best way that they can.

Credits: To the American soldier. Thank You.

Semper Fidelis

Uncommon Valor; "The President's Own" United States Marine Band; Colonel John R. Bourgeois, conducting

The enlistment process of the United States military is a decidedly lengthy process. When I walked into my local US Marine recruiters office bearing a letter of introduction from the director of “The President’s Own” United States Marine Band, I was grossly uberwhelmed at the amount of paper work and questions involved before I could do the work I was deemed “fit” to accomplish. My swearing in ceremony was probably a little more meaningful than what most MB members receive.

I auditioned for “The President’s Own” on October 6, 1990, and made the final rounds as one of three. They said that my experience with commercial music was sadly insufficient. My father was glad that I had auditioned, sad that I didn’t win the audition, but proud that I got as far as I did. He wondered whether the opportunity would ever rear its white covered, leather-necked, buzz-cut jar head again. I had to be realistic and inform him that we probably shouldn’t hold our breath.

Dad served in the Marines during the Korean War. His brother D. served in the Marines as well. His son, my cousin, K. is currently in the Marines. And my Uncle D. fought in WW II as a US Marine.

My 1990 audition for the United States Marine Band proved to be a rehearsal for an almost carbon copy 1998 audition for our nation’s oldest professional musical organization. And when my recruiter called me early one February morning to inform me that Major G. was expecting me at 1500 hours at the recruiting station in Minneapolis, MN, my first call was to Uncle D. to see if he could step in for my dad. He and Aunt J. were waiting for us when my mother and I pulled up. The Major took us down to a room that they reserve for special ceremonies and I was sworn in. I barely got the last words out of my mouth and my uncle exclaimed, “I took that very same oath in this very same room fifty years ago.” The young Marine photographer who had been archiving the occasion immediately wheeled around on one heel and started snapping pictures of my uncle. That was a surprise for all of us.

After arriving in Washington, DC, my “everything Marine” indoctrination process took two to three weeks before I put on the uniform. One of the greatest perks came when I visited the public affairs office where I received some twelve free CD’s of “The President’s Own”.

My favorite of these Marine Band recordings is called “Uncommon Valor”. It was recorded in 1992 in John Philip Sousa Band Hall at the Marine Barracks at 8^th and I Streets in Washington, DC. All of the other recordings of this premier ensemble present outstanding music that shows off dazzling technical abilities and earnest musical depth. But this is music for Marines. It conveys the musical embodiment of Marine integrity. It sustains the youthful exuberance of purpose and reason. It corroborates in song what history has authenticated for 234 years; that the first ones in and the last ones out stand a little straighter, stand a little prouder, and bear the countenance of one who stands in the gap between the foe and the defenseless, and remains “Always Fathful”.

The United States Marine Band cannot offer their CD’s for sale. It is possible to purchase certain CD’s from Amazon. But even better than that, if you click on the link below you can download for free certain tracks from Marine Band recordings. Semper Fi, Marines!

Uncommon Valor

Credits: To United States Marines the world over, on your special day. Happy Birthday! And Thank You.

Happy

On The Other Side; The Tierney Sutton Band

I am a product of my father. That has probably been indicated many times here. But here I give you two more ways, no charge: I hate to pay for parking. I hate to pay a toll to drive on a road.

Last year when I acquired my 2008 Chevy Trailblazer, it came with three months of Sirius XM Radio. I told myself that if it was going to be gone in three months, well, then I wasn’t going to listen to it. And I caved immediately. I was in heaven. Symphony Hall, Symphony Pops, Siriusly Sinatra, Cinemagic, Bluesville, Watercolors and Caliente! No commercials! Never out of range! Push the button to find out the name of the song!

After three glorious months, my dad invaded my thoughts. Normally, I welcome his memory. But this time … “Erik!” Yes, Father? “Errrrrriiiiiiik!!” Yes, Dad, I’m here!! What do you want? “FM RAAAADIOOOOOO IS FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeee … … … .”

For five frustrating months I was held captive to the restraints of blessed commercial radio and its endless tirade of ads. My life was thoroughly dismal. In July, just before going on vacation, I bribed Dad by telling him that I was taking interstate all the way to South Dakota and that in exchange I wanted Sirius XM Radio. He didn’t like it. Then I told him that the Statler Brothers lived there and he caved immediately. So when I left in July for Vacation 2009, Glacier National Park or Bust, I had first-rate road soundtrack.

About thirty miles east of Columbus, OH, I was listening to Siriusly Sinatra, where about one in every four selections features Ol’ Blue Eyes, and I heard a familiar melody in a way that I had never heard it played or sung before. “You Are My Sunshine”. Who is singing this? Well, God bless Sirius XM Radio! I got to push the button! A singer named Tierney Sutton was being melancholy about someone who was her sunshine.

“You Are My Sunshine” is a very special song for me. This was the first song that my niece M. sang for me over the phone. The song is credited to former Louisiana Governor Jim Davis, not the “Garfield” creator, who claimed that he wrote the song while riding on his horse named “Sunshine”. Ms. Sutton, in this profoundly creative and stirring rendition of the song, tends to dwell more on the “when skies are gray” aspect of this tune. And being a sudo-melancholy person anyway, yup, I caved immediately.

When I got to South Dakota, I downloaded from iTunes the album called “On The Other Side”, which included my new favorite track of “You Are My Sunshine”, featuring The Tierney Sutton Band. Virtually all of the songs in this collection use the word “happy” in the title: “Get Happy”, “Happy Days Are Here Again”, “Glad To Be Unhappy”, “Make Someone Happy” just to name a few. In Ms. Sutton’s House of Happy are some unfamiliar rooms. Happy as a single dimensional pattern doesn’t cut the interior design in this mansion. She explores the sad side, the stoic side, the exhilarating side, the content side, the dancing side, the tear-stained side and any one of fifty more sides to being happy. The resolution on her camera in this body of songs is certainly high definition and doesn’t sacrifice, indeed even enhances, the integrity of the sentiments expressed by the composers of these happy gems.

The surprise on this CD was the inclusion of Jack Sheldon on “I Want To Be Happy”. If you don’t recognize the name, let me tell you that his was the unforgettable voice featured on “Conjunction Junction”, “I’m Just A Bill”, “Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla” and “The Tale of Mr. Morton” from ABC’s “Schoolhouse Rock” that aired on Saturday mornings between the cartoons in the 70’s and 80’s.

The Trailblazer didn’t come with an outlet for me to plug in my iPod to the stereo system; surprising on such a recent vehicle model. But it does have Bose speakers. And Sirius XM, my unpredictable iPod of the airwaves, sounds awesome through them.

Credits: To the programmers at Sirius XM Radio, who are not afraid to play something obscure and maybe a little scary for the masses. Thank you for seeing your public as hardy, tough and musically robust folk. Keep it coming. We can take it.