Spinning on a Cosmic Dime: Jeff Johnson and Phil Keaggy

Artists: Jeff Johnson and Phil Keaggy Album: Spinning on a Cosmic Dime

Release:  In waves, summer of 2024

Genre: Instrumental… acousta-lectric fusion, cinematic joy

Johnson brings piano, ambience, quirky percussion, and mixing chops-- Keaggy brings all manner of splendid guitars: acoustic, electric, and bass.

Exclusively available on Bandcamp 8/23/24

https://jeffjohnsonarkmusic.bandcamp.com/album/spinning-on-a-cosmic-dime

All other music services beginning 9/6/24

Short play
Have you ever seen a family with a bevy of kids…each a variation on a theme, each a little different---with one, just a tad bit different than the others?

Step to the plate, Spinning on a Cosmic Dime -- Johnson and Keaggy’s fifth instrumental child, following Frio Suite, Water Sky, Cappadocia, and Ravenna.

Like its predecessors, Spinning on a Cosmic Dime (hereafter Spinning) showcases a stunning blend of “New Age stylings”  with touches of Art-Rock and World Music.  Spinning opens with what sounds like a nod to the Tibetan Himalayas, then dallies with touches of Latinesque guitar.

Like its siblings, Spinning features eight long songs, each a symphonic tone poem made of shifting movements.

Like its siblings, Spinning is layered and complex, twining acoustic and electric worlds.

So what makes Spinning different?
In a trio of words, Cush, Absence, and Gorgeous-Turbo.

Long Play
Quality has long been a defining characteristic of all things Johnson/Keaggy, but there is something about Spinning that feels like a Rolex or a Bentley or Nikon Z9--- whatever your standard for a fine fitting door. It simply clicks, or plays like butter and brass.

Then there is that absence.
Keaggy and Johnson, (but especially Johnson) have long courted melancholy-spare, even the dark night of the soul.  But apart from a cut or two running tranquil, there is nary a whiff of the somber--this whole work runs mellow to joyous. It isn't raucous happy, more like a glowy, Saturday-morning happy.

Finally, Spinning dishes out a sound that I  (for lack of a better phrase) call, gorgeous turbo---make that effervescent trot, splendiferous energy, or radiant pulse.  When you hear it you'll know. How much more honey-muscle joy can you press into sound!

In a quick conversation with Johnson, he mentioned that Spinning came together with greater ease and speed than earlier works. My sense: This work is no less demanding than its siblings--the ease testifies to comfort and intuition. By now, each man can complete the other's musical thoughts. There is a sense in which Spinning may be deemed more accessible than the earlier offerings.  Again, not a matter of reach, but rather, thematic unity and tone. Spiritual Vibe: I suppose the title, Spinning on a Cosmic Dime could have been used to convey the idea that we are a lonely speck of dust spinning through the dark abyss. Or… it could be used to fan a sense of gratitude and wonder. Here we are, on a bejeweled bundle of life, spinning through the singing heavens.  Like their elder brother Sebastian Bach, Keaggy and Johnson create compositions that span the arc from sacred to secular.  I might wish for a better word than secular as I do not mean music without sacred weight, just not music that shouts “churchy.” Case in point, the instrumental collaborations between Jeff and Phil employ titles anchored in place, or natural phenomena. The sound and vibe is naturalistic (with exception made for sacred spaces).  Spinning on a Comic Dime flows from the spiritual act of wonder--a common precursor to Christian praise.  Beyond that, these works exude the “fruit of the Spirit.” When I hear Spinning I hear audio manifestations of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control! And so it goes, a work can be both naturalistic, and steeped in holy goodness.

For those still here: When Johnson first introduced his second album, Water Sky I figured that it and his subsequent works with Keaggy might chase water themes… with future efforts given to the Jordan, Colorado, or Amazon. After Cappadocia came out, I wondered if the team might be tracing seasons in disguise. Now with number five out, all my attempts to trace a coherent collection rationale (save good music) are busted, though I still like the seasonal motif. As for similarities, I still tend to lump the first two together, the second two together, and now the fifth, a retrospective maverick.

Frio suite
Month: November, albeit an Arkansas’s November with multi-hued sweetgum and ruby oaks.

 

Water Sky
Month: February 

Ostensibly the leanest and darkest of the set (and a personal fave). 

While darker in tone, February is not without brilliant and overpowering light!

Cappadocia
Month: April, May or October? For whatever reasons this is my most played of the set, perhaps for its sense of mystery. 

Ravenna
Month: August or September? Hot mediterranean days, cool nights and some of the liveliest, rockingest numbers in the set.
Spinning on a Cosmic Dime
Month: June (though not an Arkansas June, more a northern-June). The colors are melon and rhubarb, not blistery. This is the music I want to play when friends come to the house and we sit in a soft summer night, happy with wine.

On a personal note:
I was pleased to provide Johnson with a timelapse video from this year's astonishing Solar Eclipse. The setting: Arkansas’ own Cedar Falls of Petit Jean State Park, with three hours smashed into seconds. Speak of Cosmic Wonder!

Eliza King: The Pressing In

 Artist: Eliza King  
Eliza King is a singer-songwriter and worship leader from Brisbane, Australia)

Album: The Pressing In 

Genre: Devotional Salon/Intimate Worship  
(sublime feminine vocal served on a soft bed of piano and restrained instrumentation)

Release: March 1, 2024
Produced by Brett Shaw

*** New Discovery ***

I find in exploring streaming services that Eliza has put out half-a-dozen songs over several years, however this is considered her first fully produced album, and stands out for its glorious production.


******

Five Stones:

Lovely, nourishing, understated, intimate, scriptural

I discovered “The Pressing In” tooling about Bandcamp recommendations. I am so glad I did, as I sense this album will quickly cimb to the level of a staple, as it nourishes my inner sanctum and ear.

I almost feel badly speaking of “Pressing” as a musical product, lest my analysis deflect from its nourishing beauty.

The first thing to strike me was Eliza's voice… not for any diva-like characteristics, but rather for its pure, simple loveliness.  It is, by quality, rather like fellow Aussie Tenielle Neda,  though I did not know when I first heard Eliza, that she was in fact an Aussie.  Funny how music seems to drive accents into a subliminal space!.  (For other quick comparisons, consider  Sarah Groves, Skye Peterson,  or, from the world of Indie folk, Markéta Irglová,)

Perhaps what distinguishes “Pressing” from works of  more traditional Praise is its deliciously underrated production, built on soft, subdued, piano.  I do not know the technical term, but it sounds like her producer put ribbons in the piano wires to dampen the sound, giving prominence to Eliza's voice.  Other embellishments, be they guitar, chamber orchestra, or percussive ambience flow underneath like a gentle brook.

Beyond any attribute of sound or production, Pressing stands out to me for its edifying spirit, scriptural pivot, and Godward focus.  These are not “testimony” songs… about God, or even invitations to corporate worship--they are a woman alone before God, in the inner chamber,  like a Bride before her Groom.  It is, in some odd sense, an invitation for me to put on my bridal gown and sing, like Solomon's wife, directly to my beloved.




To purchase and listen:   The Pressing In  - On Bandcamp

Note: In addition to the full length album, Eliza has shared an even leaner offering an EP of live, piano only version of several of the songs:  The Pressing In - Piano Sessions

Mari in the Margins, by Rebecca Gomez

Mari in the Margins: a novel in verse by Rebecca J. Gomez

Bandersnatch Books, release May 2024

So what in the world is a 64 year old man doing reading a book aimed, ostensibly at a middle school audience?

Why, supporting a newer friend and fellow writer, Rebecca Gomez!

That said, even this old man found “Mari in the Margins” a delightful read, and easily one I will push toward my grandkids when they come of age. All the more because I expect my two existing granddaughters (one, one year old, the other still in the bump) to be creative geniuses… As are children in general!

That is the very strength of Mari in the Margins---it takes universal kidhood concern (who am I ---and how can I shine as a creative artist) then fans a message of hope:  “You can do this.”

The story comes with all the hooks.  Mari is a middle-child in her middle-years in a large bicultural family.  (Which in turn adds lots of narrative color.) She keeps a journal. She is looking for her place both inside the family and at school.  A teacher and uncle recognize her skills as a poet, but she is riddled with uncertainty, writer's block, and bound by demands of family.

Now step the the stage, a poetry contest, a little sister (with needs), a best friend, and then a newer friend and potential threat to her established best friend relationship.  Now add to that middle school tension over boys, family dynamics, appendicitis, a sib with a broken leg, and a barf joke or two.  (Gomez keeps the story real to the demographic, without going full on gross.)

All of which made for a lively read, which--with the contest, kept me engaged to the very end.

But the real magic of Mari in the Margins is the author's style, wherein Gomez writes in verse (which oddly doesn't feel like verse) -- at least not the stuffy, labored kind.  Gomez sprinkles the book with sonnets, limericks, rhymed couplets and other forms of overt poetry, but more often treats the reader to fluid prose with lite embellishment, including doodles by the author. It makes for speedy consumption, and young readers are systematically baptized in poetic language and look. They will find themselves thinking (and struggling) like poets. Indeed, they may even grow with Mari as she works through daily life to find her themes.

Beyond that, Gomez pulls the illusion of writing and speaking much like a twelve-year old might, but never would.  I.e. No middle school girl is going to write Mari In the Margins. It takes a skilled middle-aged writer with a clear grasp of form (and adolescent drama) to take on the mantle of our protagonist.  (Now I wonder how much of  this rings true to the author's early life.)

As for me, I was made happy! At this age my reading tends to the heavy and complex. It was refreshing to find innocence and family goodness. I even feel encouraged to write. Or draw!


--

Find out more about Mari and Bandersnatch, HERE

Eremo: by Jeff Johnson and John Van Deusen

Jeff Johnson and John Van Deusen  

Album: Eremo  Release: 2/2024
Genre: Ambient “New Age” in the loose tradition of Philip Glass

Quick spin:
Veteran Celtic-Cinematic key-man Jeff Johnson has teamed with post-punk, neofolk troubadour and keyman John Van Deusen to create a 29 minute “audio-visual” dive into hallowed space, and wide-awake lucid dreaming.

Based on the title (Eremo, Italian for Refuge or Hermitage) and a thought-shaping video by Johnson, I start my audio-visual trek in a forest grotto. I am in a mossy enclave, surrounded by living things. Second listen, I loosen up, visualizing swelling copper-lime seas at sunset. Now I am on to manta rays gliding through Aurora Borealis.

Bridge:
I have walked with Jeff Johnson through numerous collaborations. As a rule, it is easy to tell who is Jeff, and who is non-Jeff. Jeff plays keys, others play violin or flute, guitar. sax, or voice. But now that we have another key man, how do we tell the two apart?

First listen, I am hearing hallmark Jeff… then I hear a most peculiar sound. Jeff has always layered his work, but this subterranean sound is more like scraping paper--Like noise. Then I remember a song by John (because I love John too) that collapses into pure noise.

My guess -- John is responsible for not only peculiar textural elements, but a greater push into audio oddness, like those thudding threshold sounds that make my ears feel like I am driving with one window down.

(Am I right?)

Long Play
When I was a kid, our seventh grade Music teacher introduced us to audio “Mimesis” --- the concept of music imitating or suggesting real world sounds. These sounds might include birdsong, animal cries, trains, explosions, footsteps—anything that makes noise.

And so it is that I came to hear Flight of the Bumblebee, the Grand Canyon Suite (with its donkey clops, wind generators, and thundering cymbals) or the gently rising sun of Morning Mood from the Peer Gynt Suite. (I don't know, does the rising sun have a sound?)





For people less familiar with ambient music, Eremo may stretch their very definition of what music is. How do we speak of a composition that is lean of note, chord and beat --- built on swaths of prismatic sound? Or ---how do we speak of a sound that seems to be like many sounds at once, ever changing.


Eremo is not without grounding elements. Johnson and Van Deusen employ sporadic piano and organ, together with birds, bells, and chimes--heartbeats, buzzers, rustling leaves, garbled tape, seeping water, bubbling pots, green noise, and plenty of space.

Forgive me in that I do not know the right word, but I figure that if 4/4 time signals a brisk steady pace, then Eremo must be built on something akin to 9/10 time. (Is there such a thing?) The entire composition pulses to the rhythm of a long breath. I can literally keep time, breathing in and out…slowly, like I do for the doctor, or when sampling the fragrance of a primal forest.





Inasmuch as both Johnson and Van Deusen are students of God the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, I should not be surprised if they intend Eremo to be suggestive of spiritual realities. But how does an instrumentalist suggest the realm of spirit in sound? Is it the sound of wind or silence or implied light? All I know is that when I listen to this music I come away with a sense of Divine Cohabitation.

God is near. Present. In the mix.

Which does sound peculiar. But I figure: I am in the world. The world (to some extent) is in me. The world is in God (in whom we live and move and have our being.) Indeed God not only holds the Cosmos in his hand, He sustains it, working in and through it.

All of which may sound perfectly lovely---with a twist.

When unleashed by Eremo, I envision not only beautiful things like welling seas and fanning light, I also imagine weird and creepy things, like paramecia and slime mold, jittering atoms, oily light and descending fog. But if God owns the cattle on a thousand hills, he owns too, the centipedes beneath a thousand rocks.  By the time I get to Stage Seven (the final movement) I envision killer whales and angels streaming overhead across a canopy of stars.


Final Note
I hope this doesn't deflate Jeff or John but I have found a new use for Eremo. I can listen to Eremo with headphones, enthralled--turning each layer of sound on my ears... OR, I can play the thing on my low-fi phone by my bed at night - and be knocked out by the second movement.




And so it goes, the sounds of Eremo have become my inner track, by day and night.



Eremo on Jeff Johnson's BandCamp with added links to video

and for marvels from Van Deusen, click HEAR:)