What's in a name? Consider rock bands Led Zeppelin, Rolling Stones . . . and Electric Prunes?

In 1967, I was 14 and had just gotten a "portable" stereo system for Christmas (a 50-pound suitcase thing with a flip out turntable for LPs, and speakers that detached from the sides).

Along with "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" and every Steppenwolf album that came out, I bought the first (and arguably only "real") Electric Prunes album.

EP was a an experimental "psychedelic" band, and their song "I had too much to Dream (Last Night)" ended at No. 11 on the top 40, despite the band's laughable  name.

EP kind of disappeared in the U.S. after than, going through a lot of attrition and wild creative swings before disbanding about '69. There is a current EP, reformed from geezers who comprised one of the last rosters of the band -- none of them original members -- that "reunited" in '99 and began touring Europe (they were big in Sweden).

But for about two weeks in '67, after an American Bandstand appearance, the original EP was considered groundbreaking in the so-called "acid rock" movement.

But come on, Electric Prunes? (What? They give you static regularity?) Not quite the literary props of Steppenwolf, or the poetic quality of Rolling Stones,  cool imagery of Led Zeppelin or the dark metaphor of Black Sabbath. The other bands went on to greatness on a path that followed, and eventually overtook/succeeded the Beatles. 

So, time travel with me a bit. It's a hot eastern Washington summer afternoon, humid, the windows of a 14-year-old kid's upstairs bedroom open to a limp, ineffective breeze.

You lie on the linoleum floor, sweating, stripped down to an old pair of cutoffs, forgetting for a moment that the longer you try to grow your hair and bushier and curlier it gets, a sort of celtic version of an afro.

The needle drops into the groove, a bit of static erupts from the speakers, one inches from each ear, and this is what you hear.

An old cassette tape discovered, a father's musical legacy saved

When my dad was 57 (roughly my age now, plus a few years), he was at the peak of his musical abilities, playing his plectrum, four-string long-neck banjo is ways the likes of Eddie Peabody and a few others of the greats in this form applauded.

Dad was so good that he was repeatedly turning down professional gigs. As a preacher, he believed at the time that he should limit is playing to the "Lord's venues." Playing for the "world" would almost be akin to intentional backsliding, a sin. So, he smiled, treasured the compliments of the pros, and pastored small churches in small towns throughout the Northwest.

Today, almost 92 and slowly losing his sight and musical memory, he struggles to play a few songs on a banjo-tuned ukelele.

He told me a few weeks back that he wished he could hear how he used to play. Well, in the mail last week came a package from an uncle with some documents we needed for our POA roles, and wrapped in plastic was an old cassette tape.

On it, 60 minutes of my Dad playing his old gold-plated, pear-inlaid Gibson, one song after another, including original arrangements and medleys of decidedly old but classic secular hits.

From 1979, he navigated through complicated notes, chords, runs and riffs that reminded me just how good he was.

I was able to transfer the cassette's contents and burn some CDs for him and my kids.

Already, I have a happy new year.

Click here to listen to a sampler of my Dad, one of the best banjo artists, ever.

Of church music and the Walking Dead

Had a guest worship band visit today at church. From Athens, GA., Julian Drive is the name.

Nice, hard-driving Southern Rock style. Soulful lyrics, great drummer, lead guitarist, lead singer has good range. . . but he also is a dead ringer for Sheriff Rick in "Walking Dead." 

Slap khaki pants, a badge and slouch hat on him, add couple more days of beard and strap a .44 on his hip and they could be twin brothers. 

An odd image to have in one's head, zombies drifting down the sanctuary aisles amid "Holy, Holy, Holy." It was only a brief mental detour, though. The music was that good. :)

The singer's name is SHANE. Sheriff Rick (actor Andrew Lincoln) has a deputy and best friend named Shane, who unfortunately goes zombie and has to be put down.

Yeah, I have a weird mind. It tends to take little diversions, and at the most inappropriate times.

What can I say? I'm a work in progress.

So, to wrap this up in something of a sane, faith-promoting manner . . . consider that without Christ in our lives, we are all the walking dead. Life and love are in Him.