All glory, laud and honor, To Thee, Redeemer, King, To Whom the lips of children Made sweet hosannas ring. After the demise of the Cafe, through the efforts of Acoustic Live to promote under-the-radar talent, we kept in touch with Paul. On a cold rainy night, we met in Cafe Dante, a small West Village coffee shop, one of his favorite haunts, for an interview. From Brooklyn, the Williamsburg Bridge spills into Delancey Street on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, out onto the fringes of Alphabet City, a few blocks to the north: Avenues A,B, C and D from 14th Street to Houston Street. Paula€™s father, Danny Sachs, was an actor and writer and had worked in Hollywood under the stage name Danny Jackson, particularly in Preston Sturges films. Paul was preturnaturally creative, but not especially suited for the rigidity of the public school system. One of Paula€™s counselors took an interest in Paula€™s writing and told him that hea€™d learn from reading the work of Arthur Rimbaud. He had a job as an usher at the Orpheum Theater on Second Avenue and management would allow him to busk at intermission. While his father did his best to see that Paul avoided being a a€?street kid,a€? insisting that he stay in school and get an education, elements of the street would chew away at the edges of Paula€™s life, threatening to consume him. He had two sets of friends during high school -- one was his old friends from his childhood, and the other -- guys who rode motorcycles and engaged in larceny and consumed large quantities of alcohol and other recreational substances.
During the holiday season, he was selling Christmas trees in a very treacherous Hella€™s Kitchen.
Paula€™s mother was in the hospital again, so Paul was left alone, adrift without his anchor and his champion. Then, out of the blue, his name was called amidst about four others, and he was taken out of his cell. Although he juggled work, high school and an ongoing drinking problem, Paul managed to stay in school and graduate. On that issue, number 804, Paul can be heard singing his song,a€?Better Man Than Mea€? (it can also be found on his album No Trouble Here).
During his early days as a solo artist, Paul was living on Saint Marka€™s Place, at the heart of the action.
Additionally, Paul had been looking after his mother, all through the years of her hospitalization and various treatments. About 8 years ago, he met the woman who would become his wife, and they became good friends. I asked him if it was a true story and he told me it was about the owner of the used bookstore. After the Fast Folk Cafe closed, Paul began sporadically attending Fast Folk founder Jack Hardya€™s song swaps.
Most of Paula€™s turbulent early days are found in the lyrics to the songs on his first two albums.
We hope our readers will look for Paula€™s name in these pages (and elsewhere) and go to see him live. In the cornball video in my mind, kids ping-pong off a trampoline and float in slow motion, hanging in mid-air, their hair flying in every direction. This is not just the story of a man with an acoustic guitar who writes songs and sings them. What I didna€™t know until I downloaded Jima€™s entire discography was that his range is off the charts. He played in an acoustic duo with a friend, singing Simon and Garfunkel and Beatles covers. Playing music on nights and weekends around Philadelphia, Jim acquired a reputation as a stellar session player and sideman. Among Boggia cognoscenti, ita€™s well known that Jim has spent a lot of time sharing gigs with Jill Sobule. Aside from the melodic brilliance and command of studio effects, there is no small matter of depth of lyrics. The next album released in 2005, Safe in Sound, kicks off with a€?Shine,a€? co-written with Aimee Mann. The last track, the strangely thrilling a€?Still to Come,a€? is seven minutes of a thunderstorm. Jim co-wrote a€?Chalk One Up For Alberta€™s Sidea€? with Beach Boys lyricist Tony Asher (Pet Sounds). When he hit his middle teens, friends who drove or friends with parents who drove became Jima€™s ticket to mobility. Jim heard The Fab Faux somewhere around 2000 and, as a self-described a€?Beatles freak,a€? became a huge fan. Abide, O dearest Jesus, Among us with Thy grace, That Satan may not harm us, Nor we to sin give place.
Abide, O dear Redeemer, Among us with Thy Word, And thus now and hereafter True peace and joy afford.
Abide with heav'nly brightness Among us, precious Light; Thy truth direct, and keep us From error's gloomy night. Abide with richest blessings Among us, bounteous Lord; Let us in grace and wisdom Grow daily through Thy Word. Abide with Thy protection Among us, Lord, our Strength, Lest world and Satan fell us And overcome at length.
Abide, O faithful Savior, Among us with Thy love; Grant steadfastness, and help us To reach our home above. Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word; But as Thou dwell'st with Thy disciples, Lord, Familiar, condescending, patient, free. Come not in terrors, as the King of kings, But kind and good, with healing in Thy wings, Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea? Thou on my head in early youth didst smile; And, though rebellious and perverse meanwhile, Thou hast not left me, oft as I left Thee, On to the close, O Lord, abide with me. Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes; Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies.
A great and mighty wonder, a full and holy cure: The virgin bears the Infant with virgin honor pure! The Word becomes incarnate and yet remains on high, And cherubim sing anthems to shepherds from the sky. While thus they sing your Monarch, those bright angelic bands, Rejoice, ye vales and mountains, ye oceans, clap your hands. Since all He comes to ransom, by all be He adored, The Infant born in Bethl'em, the Savior and the Lord. And idol forms shall perish, and error shall decay, And Christ shall wield His scepter, our Lord and God for aye. A Lamb goes uncomplaining forth, The guilt of all men bearing; And laden with the sins of earth, None else the burden sharing!
This Lamb is Christ, the soul's great Friend, The Lamb of God, our Savior; Him God the Father chose to send To gain for us His favor.
Lord, all my life I'll cleave to Thee, Thy love fore'er beholding, Thee ever, as Thou ever me, With loving arms enfolding.
From morn till eve my theme shall be Thy mercy's wondrous measure; To sacrifice myself for Thee Shall be my aim and pleasure. Enlarge, my heart's own shrine, and swell, To thee shall now be given A treasure that doth far excel The worth of earth and heaven. Of death I am no more afraid, New life from Thee is flowing; Thy cross affords me cooling shade When noonday's sun is glowing. And when Thy glory I shall see And taste Thy kingdom's pleasure, Thy blood my royal robe shall be, My joy beyond all measure. All depends on our possessing God's abundant grace and blessing, Though all earthly wealth depart. Many spend their lives in fretting Over trifles and in getting Things that have no solid ground. When with sorrow I am stricken, Hope my heart anew will quicken, All my longing shall be stilled. Well He knows what best to grant me; All the longing hopes that haunt me, Joy and sorrow, have their day.
If on earth my days He lengthen, He my weary soul will strengthen; All my trust in Him I place.
Now the iron bars are broken, Christ from death to life is born, Glorious life, and life immortal, on the holy Easter morn.
Christ is risen, Christ, the first fruits of the holy harvest field, Which will all its full abundance at His second coming yield: Then the golden ears of harvest will their heads before Him wave, Ripened by His glorious sunshine from the furrows of the grave. Let highborn seraphs tune the lyre, and as they tune it, fall Before His face Who tunes their choir, and crown Him Lord of all. Crown Him, ye morning stars of light, who fixed this floating ball; Now hail the strength of Israel's might, and crown Him Lord of all.
Crown Him, ye martyrs of your God, who from His altar call; Extol the Stem of Jesse's Rod, and crown Him Lord of all. Ye seed of Israel's chosen race, ye ransomed from the fall, Hail Him Who saves you by His grace, and crown Him Lord of all. Hail Him, ye heirs of David's line, whom David Lord did call, The God incarnate, Man divine, and crown Him Lord of all, The God incarnate, Man divine, and crown Him Lord of all. Sinners, whose love can ne'er forget the wormwood and the gall, Go spread your trophies at His feet, and crown Him Lord of all. Let every tribe and every tongue before Him prostrate fall And shout in universal song the crowned Lord of all.
Th'Eternal Father's only Son For a manger leaves His throne Disguised in our poor flesh and blood See now the everlasting Good.
He whom the world could not inwrap Yonder lies in Mary's lap; He is become an infant small, Who by His might upholdeth all. Th'Eternal Light, come down from heav'n, Hath to us new sunshine giv'n; It shineth in the midst of night, And maketh us the sons of light.
The Father's Son, God everblest, In the world became a guest; He leads us from this vale of tears, And makes us in his kingdom heirs. He came to earth so mean and poor, Man to pity and restore, And make us rich in heaven above, Equal with angels through his love.
All this He did to show His grace To our poor and sinful race; For this let Christendom adore And praise His name for evermore. Forgive me, Lord, for Thy dear Son, The ill that I this day have done, That with the world, myself, and Thee, I, ere I sleep, at peace may be.
O may my soul on Thee repose, And with sweet sleep mine eyelids close, Sleep that may me more vig'rous make To serve my God when I awake. When in the night I sleepless lie, My soul with heav'nly thoughts supply; Let no ill dreams disturb my rest, No pow'rs of darkness me molest. O when shall I, in endless day, For ever chase dark sleep away, And hymns divine with angels sing, All praise to thee, eternal King? All who believe and are baptized shall see the Lord's salvation; baptized into the death of Christ, they are a new creation. Almighty God, Your Word is cast Like seed into the ground; Now let the dew of Heav'n descend, And righteous fruits abound. Let not the foe of Christ and man This holy seed remove, But give it root in ev'ry heart To bring forth fruits of love. Nor let Your Word so kindly sent To raise us to Your throne Return to You, and sadly tell That we reject Your Son.
Oft as the precious seed is sown, Your quick'ning grace bestow, That all whose souls the truth receive, Its saving power may know.
Great God, come down and on Your Word Your mighty power bestow, That all who hear the joyful sound, Your saving grace may know.
Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come; 'Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, And grace will lead me home.
The Lord has promised good to me, His Word my hope secures; He will my Shield and Portion be, As long as life endures.


Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail, And mortal life shall cease, I shall possess, with in the veil, A life of joy and peace. The earth shall soon dissolve like snow, The sun forbear to shine; But God, Who called me here below, Shall be forever mine. When we've been there ten thousand years, Bright shining as the sun, We've no less days to sing God's praise Than when we'd first begun. Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing; Were not the right Man on our side, the Man of God's own choosing: Dost ask who that may be? A mighty Fortress is our God, A trusty Shield and Weapon; He helps us free from every need That hath us now o'ertaken.
With might of ours can naught be done, Soon were our loss effected; But for us fights the Valiant One, Whom God Himself elected. The Word they still shall let remain Nor any thanks have for it; He's by our side upon the plain With His good gifts and Spirit. Long my imprisoned spirit lay, Fast bound in sin and nature's night; Thine eye diffused a quick'ning ray? Still the small inward voice I hear, That whispers all my sins forgiv'n; Still the atoning blood is near, That quenched the wrath of hostile Heav'n. Angels from the realms of glory, Wing your flight o'er all the earth; Ye who sang creation's story Now proclaim Messiah's birth. Saints, before the altar bending, Watching long in hope and fear; Suddenly the Lord, descending, In His temple shall appear.
All creation, join in praising God, the Father, Spirit, Son, Evermore your voices raising To th'eternal Three in One.
Angels we have heard on high Sweetly singing o'er the plains, And the mountains in reply Echoing their joyous strains. Come to Bethlehem and see Christ Whose birth the angels sing; Come, adore on bended knee, Christ the Lord, the newborn King. See Him in a manger laid, Whom the choirs of angels praise; Mary, Joseph, lend your aid, While our hearts in love we raise. Angel voices, ever singing, round Thy throne of light, Angel harps, forever ringing, rest not day or night; Thousands only live to bless Thee, and confess Thee Lord of might.
Thou Who art beyond the farthest mortal eye can scan, Can it be that Thou regardest songs of sinful man? Here, great God, today we offer of Thine own to Thee; And for Thine acceptance proffer, all unworthily, Hearts and minds, and hands and voices, in our choicest melody. Honor, glory, might and merit, Thine shall ever be, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, blessed Trinity; Of the best that Thou hast given Earth and Heaven render Thee. As with gladness, men of old Did the guiding star behold As with joy they hailed its light Leading onward, beaming bright So, most glorious Lord, may we Evermore be led to Thee.
As with joyful steps they sped To that lowly manger bed There to bend the knee before Him whom Heav'n and earth adore; So may we with willing feet Ever seek Thy mercy seat. As they offered gifts most rare At that manger rude and bare; So may we with holy joy, Pure and free from sin's alloy, All our costliest treasures bring, Christ, to Thee, our heav'nly King.
Holy Jesus, ev'ry day Keep us in the narrow way; And, when earthly things are past, Bring our ransomed souls at last Where they need no star to guide, Where no clouds Thy glory hide. In the heav'nly country bright, Need they no created light; Thou its Light, its Joy, its Crown, Thou its Sun which goes not down; There forever may we sing Alleluias to our King! At the Lamb's high feast we sing, Praise to our victorious King, Who has washed us in the tide Flowing from his pierced side; Alleluia! Praise we Him, whose love divine Gives His sacred blood for wine, Gives His body for the feast, Christ the Victim, Christ the Priest.
Where the Paschal blood is poured, Death's dark angel sheathes his sword; Israel's hosts triumphant go Through the wave that drowns the foe.
Praise we Christ, whose blood was shed, Paschal Victim, Paschal Bread; With sincerity and love Eat we Manna from above. Mighty Victim from the sky, Hell's fierce pow'rs beneath Thee lie; Thou hast conquered in the fight, Thou hast brought us life and light; Alleluia!
Now no more can death appall, Now no more the grave enthrall; Thou hast opened Paradise, And in Thee Thy saints shall rise. Paschal triumph, Easter joy, This alone can sin destroy; From sin's death do Thou set free Souls reborn, O Lord, in Thee.
Hymns of glory and of praise, Father, to Thee we raise; Risen Lord, all praise to Thee, Ever with the Spirit be. Christ now grants us life eternal, to know You the one true God, He the Way to see the Father, He the One who felt the rod. Awake, my heart, with gladness, See what today is done; How after gloom and sadness, Comes forth the glorious Sun. Upon the grave is standing The Hero looking round; The foe, no more withstanding, His weapons on the ground Throws down, his hellish pow'r To Christ must he give o'er, And to the Victor's bands Must yield his feet and hands. A sight it is to gladden; And fill the heart with glee, No more affright or sadden Shall aught, or take from me My trust or fortitude, Or any precious good The Savior bought for me In sov'reign love and free.
Hell and its prince, the devil, Of all their pow'rs are shorn; Now I am safe from evil, And sin I laugh to scorn. The world against me rageth Its fury I disdain; Though bitter war it wageth Its work is all in vain.
I cleave now and forever To Christ, a member true, My Head will leave me never, Whate'er He passeth through.
To halls of heavenly splendor With Him I penetrate; And trouble ne'er may hinder Nor make me hesitate. Awake, my soul, and with the sun Thy daily stage of duty run; Shake off dull sloth, and joyful rise, To pay thy morning sacrifice.
Thy precious time misspent, redeem, Each present day thy last esteem, Improve thy talent with due care; For the great day thyself prepare. Wake, and lift up thyself, my heart, And with the angels bear thy part, Who all night long unwearied sing High praise to the eternal King. All praise to Thee, Who safe has kept And hast refreshed me while I slept Grant, Lord, when I from death shall wake I may of endless light partake. Heav'n is, dear Lord, where'er Thou art, O never then from me depart; For to my soul 'tis hell to be But for one moment void of Thee. Direct, control, suggest, this day, All I design, or do, or say, That all my powers, with all their might, In Thy sole glory may unite. I would not wake nor rise again And Heaven itself I would disdain, Wert Thou not there to be enjoyed, And I in hymns to be employed.
The cattle are lowing, the Baby awakes, But little Lord Jesus, no crying He makes; I love Thee, Lord Jesus, look down from the sky And stay by my cradle til morning is nigh. Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay Close by me forever, and love me, I pray; Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care, And fit us for Heaven to live with Thee there. Baptized into Thy Name most holy, O Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, I claim a place, though weak and lowly, Among Thy seed, Thy chosen host. And I have vowed to fear and love Thee And to obey Thee, Lord, alone; I felt Thy Holy Spirit move me, I dared to pledge myself Thine own, Renouncing sin to keep the faith And war with evil unto death. My faithful God, Thou failest never, Thy cov'nant surely will abide; Oh, cast me not away forever Should I transgress it on my side!
Yes, all I am and love most dearly, To Thee I offer now the whole; O let me make my vows sincerely, Take full possession of my soul! And never let my purpose falter, O Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, But keep me faithful to Thine altar, Till Thou shalt call me from my post; So unto Thee I live and die, And praise Thee evermore on high. Fair are the meadows, Fair are the woodlands, Robed in the flow'rs of blooming spring; Jesus is fairer, Jesus is purer, He makes our sorr'wing spirit sing. Fair is the sunshine, Fair is the moonlight, Bright the sparkling stars on high; Jesus shines brighter, Jesus shines purer Than all the angels in the sky. Behold a host, arrayed in white, Like thousand snow clad mountains bright, With palms they stand. Beneath the cross of Jesus I fain would take my stand, The shadow of a mighty rock within a weary land; A home within the wilderness, a rest upon the way, From the burning of the noontide heat, and the burden of the day. O safe and happy shelter, O refuge tried and sweet, O trysting place where Heaven's love and Heaven's justice meet!
There lies beneath its shadow but on the further side The darkness of an awful grave that gapes both deep and wide And there between us stands the cross two arms outstretched to save A watchman set to guard the way from that eternal grave.
Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart, And all is darkened in the vale of tears, Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart, Who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears. Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise, Thou mine Inheritance, now and always: Thou and Thou only, be first in my heart, High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art. Perfect submission, perfect delight, Visions of rapture now burst on my sight; Angels descending bring from above Echoes of mercy, whispers of love. Perfect submission, all is at rest I in my Savior am happy and blest, Watching and waiting, looking above, Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.
He played numerous showcases for Acoustic Live and took out ads with us for new CD releases. Gentrifying now at warp speed, in the 60a€™s and 70a€™s it was a winoa€™s heaven, a junkiea€™s paradise. He also worked on the venerated 50a€™s TV variety show, Sid Caesara€™s Show of Shows, as a comedy writer, for a year and a half.
His father would type the poems for him at first, but taught Paul to type, so he could do it himself. So, like many before him, Bob Dylan included, Paul dove into the maelstrom of words, astounded and inspired by what he found.
Paul would play outside the Orpheum, then a€?hita€? the intermission at the Astor Place Theater, before heading back to work the end of his shift at the Orpheum. The City As School Alternative High School at Clarkson and Houston Streets in Soho was where they sent the misfits, kids who were considered unteachable in a a€?normala€? classroom. One night, when he was in possession of various illegal substances, in the wrong place at the wrong time, he was surrounded by the police and taken into custody. The cop who had arrested him drove him home and gave him some well-meaning, but double-edged advice: a€?Kida€¦ Stay out of troublea€¦ Dona€™t buy drugsa€¦ dona€™t do drugsa€¦ just drink!a€? Paul took this to heart and never used drugs again. For those three years he wrote all the songs and played in a a€?power folka€? acoustic group called the Contenders. While many listeners may hear the influences in his voice; Springsteen, coming back to his acoustic roots, John Hiatt, breaking through on Bring the Familya€¦ others will reach past those easy comparisons and see the poet beneath. Ita€™s no shock to learn that his drinking resumed.A  However, this time, a see-saw battle raged inside of him as he engaged in a form of a€?controlleda€? drinking. In Jima€™s world in Michigan, there appeared to be no middle ground between a garage band and people who were world famous. By his estimation, it was a pure non-income-earning pursuit summed up in the jokey phrase a€¦ a€?I want to go read.a€? He did, however put some part of it to use writing and recording jingles for a local ad agency part time for a couple of years.
The film Roger and Me, by Michael Moore depicting the economic desolation of Flint, pretty much summed up the entire state, as far as Jim was concerned. In 1996, he was still working at his day job as a service rep when a call came in for a multi-show gig with Bernadette Peters. While there is a great pop feel to much of Jima€™s work, absolutely nothing is a throwaway piece of fluff.
The first track, a€?So Full,a€? is one of my favorites and one that Jim is still proud of a€” a great way to start onea€™s recording career.
The second track is the aforementioned a€?Live the Proof.a€? Jim has said that Aimee had written a darker verse for a€?Proofa€? that he preferred, but the song had been recorded by then. Adding an air of poignancy, there are snippets of taped words of long-passed-on grandparents, aunts and uncles. Two very upbeat songs, a€?8-Tracka€? and a€?Listening To NRBQ,a€? use made-up but real-seeming memories.
This sunny, winning song of redemption borrows stylistic touches from the Beach Boys (harmonies) and Beatles (a€?Rocky Raccoona€?-like melody).
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee; In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.
My stream of life shall ever be A current flowing ceaselessly, Thy constant praise outpouring.


When I appear before Thy throne, Thy righteousness shall be my crown- With these I need not hide me. He who trusts with faith unshaken In His God is not forsaken And e'er keeps a dauntless heart. He who did so gently school me, He who still doth guide and rule me, Will remain my Help divine. I shall strive to win a treasure That will bring me lasting pleasure And that now is seldom found. Hearts to Heav'n and voices raise: Sing to God a hymn of gladness, sing to God a hymn of praise. Christ has triumphed, and we conquer by His mighty enterprise: We with Him to life eternal by His resurrection rise.
Shed upon us heav'nly grace, Rain and dew and gleams of glory from the brightness of Thy face; That we, with our hearts in Heaven, here on earth may fruitful be, And by angel hands be gathered, and be ever, Lord, with Thee. Thou art the King of Israel, Thou David's royal Son, Who in the Lord's Name com est, The King and Blessed One. The company of angels Are praising Thee on High, And mortal men and all things Created make reply. The people of the Hebrews With palms before Thee went; Our prayer and praise and an thems Before Thee we present. To Thee, before Thy passion, They sang their hymns of praise; To Thee, now high exalt ed, Our melody we raise.
Thou didst accept their praises; Accept the prayers we bring, Who in all good delight est, Thou good and gracious King.
Christ Jesus, it is He; Lord Sabaoth, His name, from age to age the same, And He must win the battle. And take they our life, Goods, fame, child and wife, Let these all be gone, They yet have nothing won; The Kingdom ours remaineth. Emptied Himself of all but love, And bled for Adam's helpless race: 'Tis mercy all, immense and free, For O my God, it found out me!
I woke, the dungeon flamed with light; My chains fell off, my heart was free, I rose, went forth, and followed Thee. My Savior there was laid Where our bed must be made When to the realms of light Our spirit wings its flight. Grim Death with all his might Cannot my soul affright; He is a pow'rless form, Howe'er he rage and storm. My heart from care is free, Misfortune now is play, No trouble troubles me, And night is bright as day. He treads the world beneath His feet, and conquers death And hell, and breaks sin's thrall; I'm with Him through it all. No enemy I fear, Because my Head is near; My Savior is my Shield, By Him all rage is stilled.
Now safe and blest for aye, And praise the Lord, who with His Word Sustained you on the way. As to the holy patriarch that wondrous dream was giv'n, So seems my Savior's cross to me, a ladder up to heav'n.
This is my story, this is my song, Praising my Savior, all the day long; This is my story, this is my song, Praising my Savior, all the day long. Onto the streets around Ninth Street and Avenue C, a young Paul Sachs walked, to make his acquaintance with the world. His powerful voice didna€™t set well with some bystanders, and he endured an occasional shower from a cup for water hurled at him and his guitar and case. He liked motorcycles, wearing leather, drinking, smoking, and using said recreational pharmaceuticals. For a number of years he continued to play his music, while drowning his sorrow and fear in gallons of Southern Comfort.
Continuing to stay connected to the performing arts, he had a job working at the Village Gate, handling the spotlight.
One day, sitting on a rooftop with a pack of cigarettes and a couple of six-packs, he had a moment of insight.
It struck at the core of where I live and where I dream (that happens to be rockabilly), and took a left turn to someplace else. From the beginning some 12 years ago, they have always been primarily about one thing: the transmission of joy. He does Beatles covers well enough to be a guest player, from time to time, in the Cadillac of Beatles tribute bands, The Fab Faux. The next five years in Warren were something out of a€?The Wonder Years.a€? There were families with children everywhere, cul-de-sacs and kids on bikes. Bernadette worked with a 20-piece orchestra, but for two or three songs, during the middle of her set, Jim alone would accompany her, sitting on a stool with just an acoustic guitar.
Jim started playing for The Fab Faux when he was asked to sub for Jimmy Vivino when Jimmy went to L.A. And cheer my heart in sorrow; Henceforth myself and all that's mine To Thee, my Savior, I consign, From whom all things I borrow.
And there, in garments richly wrought As Thine own bride, I shall be brought To stand in joy beside Thee. He, who on the cross a Victim, for the world's salvation bled, Jesus Christ, the King of glory, now is risen from the dead. He is near us, faith believes, nor questions how; Though the cloud from sight received Him when the forty days were o'er Shall our hearts forget His promise, "I am with you evermore"? Life Creator, life Redeemer, life Imparter, Source of Truth,Teach us now to love each other, Teach us Lord to love like You.
Life Creator, life Redeemer, life Imparter, Three in One, Teach us Lord to see Your Image, Teach us now to see the Son. And "Victory" He cries, And waving tow'rds the skies His banner, while the field Is by the Hero held! He and his friends created a safe haven, as best they could, playing in the streets and empty lots.
Paul replied, a€?These are poems I wrote.a€? The teacher called him a liar, disbelieving that he could ever be capable of writing poetry. Others would approach guitar as a way to become the next Eddie Van Halen, but for Paul, the emphasis was on setting his poetry to music, writing songs. Hearing that, I said, a€?That musta€™ve take a thick skin.a€? a€?It still does,a€? he replied. He came home for lunch one afternoon, to hear his father stumbling around in the bedroom and went to see what was the matter.
He spent three days in a€?The Tombs,a€? on an express track to Rikera€™s Island, where an uncertain end waited. He could see his life stretching out before him, the alcohol coursing down his throat, year after year, over and over. This thing took its opening chunky electric guitar riff and underlaid it with a second jangly guitar and a drum attack tailor-made for my own air-drum fantasies.
That was the first time he actually played before an audience of a€?paying customers.a€? He was also in a rock band and played high school dances. Upon first meeting, Jim told her that he played a lot of her songs, so she invited him to play during her set.
There are added ambient sounds that conjure visions of Jim looking around, pulling in elements of the world surrounding him. The track finishes with an old-timey, vaudeville-like song dedicated to Shane the sound engineer. As the words Hea€™s nevera€¦ never comina€™ home emerge from Jim in an angry, sorrow-filled wail, a brass section plays a slow, sad funereal march. My priceless treasure, Lord my God, Is Thy most holy, precious blood, Which flowed from wounds so cruel. Music: 'Gelobet Seist Du' ancient German found in Walter's Geistliche Gesangbuchlein, 1524.
Still holding onto dreams of being a performing songwriter, I would occasionally play my own set.
Danny was obviously suffering from some mysterious impairment -- he couldna€™t function well enough to tie his shoes.
In the mid-1990a€™s the Fast Folk Cafe was born and it was here that Paul found a sense of community and support for him as an artist. The singer strode in on his serrated voice, sharp enough to carve a new pathway through my cardiac apparatus. On one video, he is shown being interviewed in 2008 on a TV station promoting an anniversary show of the first Beatles concert in Philadelphia. At a store in Ann Arbor that carried newspapers from around the nation, he got an issue of the Philadelphia Inquirer and saw a listing for a job in Philly as a customer service representative in a high-tech studio equipment company. This segues into sweetly lilting a€?Listening To NRBQ.a€? We hear a perky strum on an acoustic guitar and tart licks on an electric. In the background, from a recording on a small digital recorder Jim made, real names of area soldiers lost in the war are read by a Quaker organization at the Town Hall in Philadelphia. If anyone who reads this heads over to YouTube to experience the remote version of Jim, Ia€™ve gotten part way there. After Jimmy returned, another opportunity came when he was asked to sub for Jack Petruzzelli. They played a set of six grunge-style songs that Paul wrote, over and over, at high school events. He kept saying a€?I gotta go to worka€¦a€? Paul said, a€?No, you cana€™t.a€? and put him to bed. He was slated to perform their 26-minute set solo, from that first Philly concert (as a headline act featuring other bands, the Beatles set was relatively short). Leta€™s get him out here!a€? After the audience applauded loudly for Jim, Jill added, with great comic timing, a€?Now, Ia€™ve actually never heard him; he might suck!a€? Theya€™ve done gigs together ever since. There are more great songs not included and other side project recordings listed on his website. Paul had been listening to his records at home, particularly Verities and Balderdash, along with his father. Then, before his eyes, his father, sensing that he was dying, said, a€?I cana€™t leave you nowa€¦a€? He died right there.
The cumulative effect put a rocket payload under every cell in my body and shot me into a stratosphere somewhere in my brain a€” someplace endorphins form and multiply a€” with cells subdividing and spreading exponentially. A cartoon version of me would show a hamster pushing a button to get his ecstasy-laden pellets, winding up prostrate and exhausted. On the video, we can still watch as Jim rips through a€?Cana€™t Buy Me Love,a€? using only an acoustic guitar, throwing in lead melody licks amid the strumming, his voice a McCartneyesque doppelganger. Paul had called EMS, but they arrived too late to do anything except tell Paul that his father had had a stroke. When I describe this video, and numerous others to friends, I find myself using the term a€?jaw-droppinga€? often. In Jima€™s charmed universe, he later got to play live shows with monster NRBQ pianist Terry Adams, Color him ecstatic.
This setting may be freely reproduced or published for Christian worship, provided it is not altered, and this notice is on each copy. The big hit from that album was a€?Cata€™s in the Cradle.a€? This was the first time Paul had ever seen anyone of this magnitude up close and it had a huge impact on him.
His mom didna€™t drive and after school and weekends he had to rely on his guitar, his records (plus later, a tape recorder) and an absorption in music, alone in his room. On any one of my frequent runs to a store outside, to re-stock the snack bar, if he was playing, I could hear him from down the street.
This period of isolation and self-taught growth was like putting a nuclear scientist alone in a laboratory with everything he needed to build a reactor.



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