A Visit from an Old Friend

“But we’ve got lots of water, cool, clear refreshing water.  Just drink our living water; it will make you  free.”   From the album Our Front Porch by Ralph Carmichael and the Young People. Circa 1974.

I’ve told you several times about the listening “room” (closet) that I employed and enjoyed at the Enterprise State Junior College.  I’ve told you how besides assigned listening, I spent countless hours dropping the needle on a myriad of composers many of whom I discovered for myself.  As a reminder, there were three turntables and three sets of stereo headphones and a large shelf of albums. I was able to help myself to any of the records on the shelf for as long as I cared to listen.

But I’ve never told you about the listening “situation” at my senior college,  Samford University.  In the basement of the library was a music library.  There were shelves upon shelves of music related books and textbooks. In  the back of the room were listening stations much like at the junior college. I again could help myself to those records.  I don’t remember a lot about that other than the equipment was there and I was there from time to time.  I seldom  did any extracurricular listening because for those three years when I wasn’t in class, I was in the practice room, the library or rehearsals with the A Cappella Choir. Samford had a thing called Jan Term  which was classes in January.  For J-term you took only one class.  You were in that class most of the day for four weeks and at the end of the term you earned whatever semester credits were applicable for that class.  I earned entire semester credits in January in all three of  my years at Samford. Besides the music school listening area for music students, Samford offered a listening area for the entire student body.  Only it was a little strange. This listening “room” in the student  center was actually the student center itself.  Along the wall in the entrance to the student center were three female phone inputs for headphone jacks and three comfortable chairs.  To listen to any particular album, you had to ask the student clerk, who was in a small room with a window, to play that album.  You signed your name with student ID and s/he handed you a set of headphones. You then plugged in the phones, sat down in the chair and enjoyed your music.  I don’t remember there being any sort of catalog in that check out room. You just had to know what you wanted to listen to, tell the clerk and hope s/he had the album in his library. At the end of the session, you returned the headphones and he crossed your name off the list.

Although I was earning a Bachelor of Music Education and was singing and studying “serious music”, there was one album I listened to over and over in the student center. It was an album of Christian  contemporary music called Our Front Porch: New Sounds of the 70s by Ralph Carmichael and the Young People.  This album wasn’t just “new sounds of the 70s”, it was new sounds period.  “Christian contemporary”, which has exploded in the last twenty years, was in its infancy then. The music was groundbreaking in its scope and style.

Last night   I thought to do something that I’d never thought about doing.  I searched “Our Front Porch” on YouTube. The entire album popped up. I enjoyed listening to it last night and I’m enjoying listening to it now. I’m reminded why I liked it so much; it’s fresh, clean, positive and encouraging.  In 1975 as a struggling music student I found encouragement anywhere I could find it.  I still find encouragement anywhere I can find it. Encouragement isn't in short supply, but sometimes you have to look for it.

There is a young lady in my "sphere of influence" who has a unique request for Christmas. She has asked her parents for a turntable. And she's asked the rest of us to give her an album.  But here's the thing,  she doesn't want her favorite albums; she wants us to give her our favorite albums. I found a box of albums that I have not looked through in years since I have not had a turn table for thirty years. I looked through the albums one by one to find one or two that she might enjoy.  I was totally surprised with the last album in the stack, Our Front Porch by Ralph Carmichael. I had forgotten I ever owned it. So is that one I'll give her?  I doubt it. Not because I'm reluctant to part with it. Just because it meant so much to me doesn't mean it would mean anything to her. Besides she hears something like it every Sunday at church. I'm leaning toward Fogelberg, and Simon and Garfunkel. I'm sure she'll flip over that.