“When I get sad, I stop being sad and be awesome instead.” – Barney Stinson

I don’t get sad anymore.

Maybe its ironic, but I can’t think of a sadder statement than that.  I don’t get sad.  It isn’t an emotional issue so much as a psychological one.  After a while, when I was a kid, I stopped responding to most forms of punishment.  It just happened.  Maybe I fell into the same trap as I got older.  My emotions will show in most situations, don’t get me wrong, but don’t expect to see me sad.  Stressed?  Rarely, but possibly.  Upset?  Yes.  Exhausted?  All the time, sadly.  But sad?  No.  It just doesn’t happen anymore. 

When I was in my teens, I made a pledge to myself, a vow if you will.  “Chris,” I said to myself, “you have to promise yourself that you’ll never go into a job you don’t want.  Ever.  Doesn’t matter the circumstances: don’t do it.”  This wasn’t for anything miniscule though: it didn’t mean anything like avoid working at Burger King or a retail store.  It meant never fall into a career, as long term or short term as it may be, that conflicts with what fundamentally makes you “you”.  In that vein, there were three professions I was adamant in avoiding: religious occupations, teaching in schools and animating.  The first was a matter of self: my religious/spiritual beliefs are in a constant state of flux as they evolve, so it would be far too easy for me to forget the “job” aspect and start harping on the wonders of something entirely contradictory to the written teachings of the Catholic Church, all with no cares given along the way.  In my lifetime I’ve turned down one such job, and despite needing the money I don’t have even the slightest regret in doing so.  The second was due to my (still) clashing notions and ideas towards and about the public school system.  Funny enough I accepted a job in the public school system and I’m having fun with it: my views are still bouncing around but how can you expect to change something unless you do it from the inside?

And yes, I know a few of you “wiser” people will make the same argument regarding my involvement with the Church: to that I say that I have no intentions to change the Church.  Or the school system, for that matter, not really.  More so I’d like to assist students in thinking beyond the boundaries they place on themselves.  Anyway, the third one deals with my transition from drawing to writing, and how I like to keep my primary focus on the latter now.  As you might tell from this humble website.  Now it may not seem like it, but avoiding certain jobs is just as damaging on the psyche as having no prospects at all.  At one point it was a struggle to get so much as a response from most employers and the kindness of friends and supporters was all you had to fall back on.  Being true to yourself is either foolhardy or ill-advised; that’s a lie: it’s both.  You just pick on to justify your motions.

But eventually you cope.  You adapt to the decision you made, even if it feels like you’ve sold yourself short.  For me, whether it was avoiding an occupational ministry, or debating the merits of combating a system structured for groupthink, or just composing a page of script versus a drawing of the same words, I sought something to help me deal with the mild depression.  For one, I stopped getting sad.  Made things clearer.  For two, I fell deeper into the marvelous music of Terry Callier.  Terry Callier is going to be a name you see very often with my posts: he’s my favorite musician.  I felt my heart contract when he died and I didn’t even realize he was gone until two days later.  I’ve listened to all his studio albums, a few remix albums, guest appearances from here to Japan, compilations, live albums and live performances I have to see on Youtube because I wasn’t smart enough to be a fan sooner so as to see him live in person.  I’m so much a fan that I’ve found ways to justify the less-than-stellar efforts on his part such as Lifetime and Turn Your to Love.  Not so much Fire on Ice though.  But alas: I’ll find something.

For those of you unaware, Terry Callier was a jazz/folk/doo wop/lounge/etc. singer-songwriter from Chicago, Illinois.  He was a childhood friend of Curtis Mayfield and established himself as an amazing songwriter early on, penning hits for a number of acts.  His musical career was on the rise until he had a daughter: he saw that singing wasn’t necessarily a valuable route for raising a child so he left the music scene and went to school to get a degree.  He succeeded, scored a job working with computers and made a healthy living like that, never to do music again.

Or did he?!  Yes.  He did.  Europe, being the musical bastion that it is, is full of DJs who like to remix songs and albums and one day some lucky so-and-so discovered the music of Mr. Callier.  He remixed it and played it in clubs and suddenly Terry Callier was revered for his music again (as he should have been).  After his daughter was well off and on her own, he began to take vacation time and go to Europe every now and again, to perform.  He did the same in the States.  Ironically enough, he was eventually fired for this music career revival; that’s how the stories go at least.  I should research it more.  He began to do music again and continued putting out quality until 2009 with his final LP Hidden Conversations, a collaboration with English-based group Massive Attack.  In 2012, shortly before the presidential election, he passed away after a long battle with cancer.  He was a great man and a musician who was far too unknown to the world at large.

“Soulful Clown” comes from one of his compilation albums, the appropriately titled Essential.  It has a sound very reminiscent of his earlier work, where doo wop and early R&B permeated his sound.  It incorporates a flute throughout, keeping a pace and backbone worthy of the percussion, and the steady guitar meshes well with Callier’s calm voice.  The elements all come together in a surprisingly upbeat little diddy from a man who had mastered slow brilliance and melancholy poetry very early on.  It tells the story of a man coming up and growing from his experiences, singing to the children about his ups and downs that some more contemporary music lovers might compare to Ahmad’s “Back in the Day”.  Unlike the rap song, however, “Soulful” doesn’t carry that all too important air of nostalgia.  What “Soulful” does is comes across as equal parts instructive and accepting, with the soulful clown of a singer acknowledging his past and relations without harping on wanting to go back to the times.  As the third verse comes about he looks back on his time, now a grown man, and you can imagine he wore a calm smile as he could look back without being too distracted to look before him.

In a way, you could argue that this song was a perfect reflection of Callier’s career.  His discography is a sparkling example of an artist pushing the boundaries of genres, and when he was on he created classics in the same way that Stevie Wonder did.  When he was on a low, the results were less than stellar, but it never stuck.  He kept moving forward, and laughing and smiling along the way as he did something new with his sound.  On a slightly unrelated note, I can appreciate how this song was never on any studio album: it really didn’t fit anything around the time frame of the other songs on the compilation (those that were on albums too), and I assert it was closer to his folk-country sound on his first album The New Folk Sound of Terry Callier then the more orchestral-folk sound of next albums What Color is Love? or I Just Can’t Help Myself (I Don’t Want Nobody Else).  Perhaps it was left off of Occasional Rain though: it does sound like it would fit in amongst “Ordinary Joe” or “Sweet Edie-D”. 

My way of coping was falling into the golden circle of Callier’s music, and now I can firmly say that things aren’t the best they could be but I’m not stressed, and I’m still not sad.  I’m focused, and firmly devoted to getting revenge on anyone who might have doubted me.  The only way one should: through success.  And no, Terry Callier’s music isn’t about, or for, revenge (barring perhaps “Do You Finally Need a Friend?”) but it is a fine way to clear your head and become more in tune with your own sense of brilliance.  And that’s me. 

By the way, sorry for the delay.  We’ve been working on a project for the site that may or may not fully manifest, but it took a lot more effort and time than we figured it would.  Sorry about that.