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Jars of Clay launches tour at Calvin
By Jodi Anderson
Staff Writer
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“Does anyone know a couple of guitar players?” lead singer Dan Haseltine asked the crowd. A few seconds later the tardy guitarists sheepishly joined the rest of the band known as Jars of Clay. They started us off with “Overjoyed” and then “I Need You,” both tastefully done in a nice, easy swing that would set the tone for the evening. With a bass fiddle and an upright piano, this acoustic set could have come straight out of VH1’s “Storytellers.”
Dan and the delinquent guitarists were on stools under subdued lighting, the drummer all but hidden behind them. We’re going to have some fun, he said, roast some s’mores, play some songs. After making some references to the old Calvin-Hope rivalry and the ongoing game (“We were asked to give score updates. But really, aren’t there more important things in life?”), he took out a hat, holding it upside down. The casual atmosphere was cemented by what came next. Haseltine offered the floppy hat to a person in the front row, claiming that they didn’t really know what they wanted to play next; we could choose. It was more “non-confrontational,” he explained, somewhat facetiously. Thus began a conversation between the audience and the performers.
“Boy on a String” was next. “Nice choice,” complimented Haseltine, looking comfortable in a sweatshirt jacket and t-shirt. The guys lackadaisically made their way through the song, playing as if the audience were friends to be entertained around the campfire. Next was “Frail,” off of their second album, “Much Afraid.” “Disappear,” from their newest album, “From the Stage: From the Studio,” followed that lament.
The now somber mood called for a profundity, with which Haseltine obliged us. “Faith always seems to come from the opposite direction,” he began. He spoke of how people set standards, gear themselves up for a certain situation, and then the unexpected happens. The next song, “Faith Enough,” spoke of their faith journey and of the Christian journey in general.
The hat was passed again and the guys served up yet another treat. “I realize that I haven’t been telling you the names of the new songs that you’ve never heard,” Haseltine mused. “We just wanted to be like your favorite radio station.” (Later I learned that the piece was called “Valley Song.”)
He did tell us the name of the next one and included the story behind it. “Fly” was written in their studio to deal with the death of someone very close to them. They never thought it would see the light of day on any record, but was more of a dialogue between the members to work through their sorrow. Many others entered into that conversation, he said, and it ended up on their new record. I could see why. The intensity and emotion of both the lyrics and music drew you into their circle, made you remember past sorrows, and left you sighing, not in despair, but in the peace that passes understanding.
As if he could bear no more heaviness, Haseltine began speaking of other important matters. “How many of you are musicians?” he inquired. Several hands shot up accompanied by enthusiastic whooping. “How many of you have done the coffeehouse gig? Well, you know how you pick this one great song for the set and you practice and practice until your fingers bleed…and you’re only the lead singer?” Laughter. He went on to describe how you, as the songwriter, were building up to this carefully crafted lyric, plucked straight out of the Webster’s dictionary and lovingly laid within the melody, how this was the climax of the song, “and the cappuccino machine inevitably goes off and no one heard it. What they heard was, well, froth.” For those in the crowd who hadn’t experienced this memorable event, Matt Odmark gave a quite accurate audio example of hot milk being steamed. “We figured, ‘Why fight it?’” Haseltine rationalized.
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The band’s background music to this sad narration swelled into a beautifully harmonized composition about, well, coffee. “I want strong, good coffee,” they sang, “with a really big kick.” At this point, three legs simultaneously shot out, to the amusement of the audience. Musically speaking, this was probably the highlight of the set. The guys jammed, each getting their chance to add a new layer. “My turn,” declared Dan and gave his version of the theme from “I Dream of Jeannie.” Nice twist.
With the mood considerably lightened, the guys gave up the hat tricks and launched into “Like a Child.” Obviously, this was a favorite of the fans who eagerly sang along. Dan was more than willing to allow them to. “You know the rest!” he encouraged us. Oh yeah, I joined in. “Revolution,” from the “The Eleventh Hour” disc followed, which added to the energy of the room. Everything came to a climax with the ever-popular “Flood.” The crowd launched to its feet, clapping, singing and dancing. I couldn’t help but be swept up in the freedom of the moment. I hope I didn’t scare the soundman behind me.
They closed with “Love Song for a Savior.” Imagine hundreds of people singing, “I want to fall in love with you.” The Holy Spirit was present that night, and his pleasure was evident in the sweet fragrance of our offering.
The fans couldn’t let it end there and clamored for more. The guys were more than happy to accommodate them, and came out to play one final song from their self-titled debut.
Caedmon’s Call opened for Jars and played a harmonically tight set, not as disorganized as now sole lead singer Cliff Young led us to believe with his apology. The dynamic of this group changed some with the departure of co-writer/lead singer Derek Webb, but Andrew Osenga, formerly of The Normals, quite adequately filled the void providing solid guitar playing and background vocals. They ended with a couple of praise songs, giving credit where it was due.
Both bands expressed their love of playing at Calvin. They cited the students’ love for God, for his music and the school’s emphasis on servitude as part of this. When a band loves performing, their emotion feeds into the crowd. We felt it that night.
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