Photo by Anthony Scarlati
It is a puzzle of many pieces, learning to truly live. A study of contrasting gravities, we pressure ourselves to work from the outside edges in, while the most telling glimpses remain obscured, patiently closer to the heart of it all. This puzzle-solving, by any name, feels like fighting a war on two fronts, a pyrrhic effort in the least. To remain devoted in the face of such odds, much less to make peace with the matter, is the first sign that the war could actually be won.
Yet, moving towards wholeness is not truly about winning a war. Piecing one’s self together is rarely about meeting callous deadlines or delivering a set result. Instead, it is sobering to consider that we are never actually given all the pieces at one time. The beauty of this life is that we are most blessed when we spare a piece of ourselves in the aid of another. Such is the nature of Mercy, a way of life that seems to lose value by the day. But Mercy is the way of true artists, demanding it from the very same people they so willingly offer it to. That communion of sorts often lays the road toward something a little sweeter, a little brighter, a little less painful. It is truly the Mercy of Exodus.
Mike Farris is a man, no less an artist, well versed in the Mercy of Exodus. Documents of his suffering exist beside testimonies of his rebirth, and he seems to care little to posture either one before the other. Instead, he exudes a conviction to the here and now, and a commitment to something more righteous than his words alone can convey. When so compelled, his instinct flips the switch and he begins to testify- not with the tent-show vanity of modern televangelists or the vacuous emoting of modern culture, but with the combustion of a man on fire, begging for a bath.
To witness such burning is to feel such heat. It cannot be helped- when such intensity is met with rapt attention, the unspeakable gets spoken. That moment is the Exodus of Mercy, and though many artists have had many names for that kind of transcendence, it remains the providence of all that is soulful in artistic pursuit.
An act of sacrifice, so to speak, is well-aided by proper setting, and on a short burst through the upper Midwest, Mike Farris settled in for an intimate Sunday night at the Flying Mango in Des Moines. The Mango is a culinary house of worship, where chef Mike Wedeking and his partner Suzanne Van Englehoven alchemize cultural savvy with continental daring; think smoked duck tacos with blueberry salsa. When paired with a finer appreciation for roots music, a tasty altar is soon set.
Closing the distance between brokenness and deliverance, Farris began the night by wrapping himself around a melancholy “Oh Mary, Don’t You Weep”, a gospel standard he first rearranged for his Salvation in Lights studio effort of 2007. The night would feature a number of songs off that project, including the next song, his version of Sister Rosetta Tharpe’s “Cain’t No Grave”. The first belter of the night, Farris quickly escalated into both an excitement and a range that most men, or women, will never find.
Starting “Sit Down Servant:” by lamenting the difficulty in mounting tours with his ten-piece Roseland Rhythm Revue, Farris began to self-depreciate and mimic the legendary McCrary sisters, gospel family royalty included in his Revue, who add a richness that one man cannot compete with. Smile in tow, he chided the timidity of the audience choir, but then turned earnest when asking if anyone could help him. To his surprise, Farris was soon joined by renowned area talent, Tina Haase Findlay of bella soul who had been politely dragged to the stage by Wedeking [Editor’s note: she is the author’s wife and musical collaborator]. Briefly feeling each other out, Haase Findlay was soon adding sweetness to Farris’ ascension, and the give & take got the crowd to lean a little closer, smile a little wider, cheer a little louder.
One of the great pleasures of a solo acoustic performance is when the intimacy becomes fearlessness. Finding his pace early, he turned confessional and kept rolling through albums cuts and their histories. He then began to offer sketches and visions for his new record, near half done at that point. And the fearlessness got real rather quickly when, after a moving version of the standard “If I Could Hear My Mother Pray Again,” he hushed himself , unfurling what ended up being perhaps the masterpiece of the night.
Recounting how he was devastated each time he heard this particular song, the truth crawling across his face and through his voice, Farris admitted defeat when he tried to then sing it for his wife. He simply could not climb its summit. Such a striking thought- to so deeply feel the essence of something, you are utterly crushed by it. But when he was going over songs to collect for his new record his wife reminded him of that song that meant so much. And it was her encouragement that forced Farris to unravel Mary Gauthier’s “Mercy Now”, and his haunting-yet-joyful take hits the very heart of what Gospel should be- bottom line, it’s still Good News.
JB Lenoir’s “Jonah and the Whale”: and his own “Selah Selah” and “Devil Don’t Sleep Tonight” were late highlights, and after segues through off-the-cuff versions of Skip James’ “DC Center Blues”, “That’s How I Got to Memphis” by Tom T. Hall, and Stevie Wonder’s “Master Blaster”, he began wrapping his marathon set by calling Haase Findlay back to the stage for “Since I Laid My Burden Down.” Tight but loose, the lady pushed him a bit harder and Farris ran with it for a while. As she walked away, he asked her if she wanted to do another, and he fell into “Wade In The Water”, which brought another, even wider smile to the shouter’s lips.
Bringing the dynamic down, Farris observed, gesturing crowd-ward, “there’s something magical that gets released when we make music together”, and the assembled responded with a glad volume. As the soft-strained first line of “Will The Circle Be Unbroken” came bubbling, and the crowd fell in naturally, Farris’ observation proved to be an invocation in hindsight, and the crowd stayed with him through “This Little Light Of Mine.” Closing with his uptempo arrangement of Thomas A. Dorsey’s “Precious Lord”, the room witnessed another roller coast set of vocal gymnastics that were as much Otis Redding love song as Sunday Night tent revival.
And that’s the wonder of what, and whom, Mike Farris truly is. He is a tapestry woven of the sacred and the secular, tilting on an old world’s balance of grace and conviction. That he sings like a freed man, fingering his scars all the while, is a big part of his charisma. A term often applied, often unkindly, to those who share his beliefs outwardly if not inwardly, charisma is what it takes to be remembered. History is full of those who remain unforgotten, for myriad reasons, but one gets the sense Farris isn’t doing this to be remembered by the faceless masses. Quite the opposite- he does it to fully remember the face in the mirror.
Mike Farris and Tina Haase Findlay at Flying Mango
Brandon Findlay: So much of the blues and gospel roots of American music describe a sort of “exodus” as an ideal, whether it’s out of bondage, bad love, bad luck, whatever it may be. What do you think it is about the idea of exodus that appeals to mankind?
Mike Farris: For me, the whole “exodus” thing, how that plays in and how that resonates with people all over the world- it’s a universal thing. This whole relationship we got with the exodus, the struggle to be free of bondage, to be free of our struggles- the reason why, for me, is that everybody, across the board, has a burden. They have a cross they have to bear. They have something they’re weighted down with. And that’s our task on Earth, I think, is to identify it, face it, deal with it. And it changes, you know? And to seek freedom, and become free of it, on our path to back to God.
When I did Salvation in Lights, I looked around at one point and was like “Man, I don’t know if there’s anybody else doing this. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing,” so I started looking around while we were in the recording process…
BF: In terms of the mix [of elements] you were attempting to hit on that record?
MF: Yeah- I wasn’t really worried about appealing to anybody with that record, but I was curious. I was like “We’re on to something here- I wonder if there’s anybody else doing this right now?” And I looked around and I really couldn’t find anybody. So that kind of alarmed me, you know? But at the same time, I was thinking this might be a good thing,
So when we started doing it and presenting it to people, what I realized was that I found that… we never really played churches, never did that kind of [thing]… I was on a Christian label [INO Records] and [they] just didn’t know what to think about me. But [they] just didn’t want to see me on the sidelines,[they] wanted me in the game, just doing something, so [they] signed me and was like “Hey, let’s try it.” But we were playing our music in the secular world, and I was a little fearful, but what I found was that everywhere you go, we played this music and people were trippin’ their minds out, high, drunk, whatever, at 3 o’clock in the morning at a festival, man, and we’re playing and they won’t let you offstage!
You see something in people when you play old music like this, that comes from… it’s birthed from struggle, a peoples’ struggle for freedom, and what it does is that it resonates with people and it knocks down all walls. So that theme of struggle, of exodus, is universal. There are no walls whatsoever. We’re all in this together, just trying to figure it out the best we can and get moving on and be happy.
BF: Amen. On that note, you were part of what some people considered the second generation of jambands when you were in the Screaming Cheetah Wheelies. Since then, you’ve lived your own exodus out of things in your life. Looking back, what was your “exodus”? What did you need to exodus out of, as an artist and as a man?
MF: Well, I was a drug addict and I was an alcoholic, since I was 15. I overdosed when I was 20, nearly died. Came close to overdosing who knows how many times, when you know you’ve pushed it too far. So, that was a big thing for me, trying to figure out why I was being self-destructive like I was. The other thing was, is that you have a whole lot of other little things you have to fight your way out of too. Even if it’s little simple things, like “I need to overcome this. I need to be more assertive. If I don’t want to do this, I should just say no.” Like, I don’t want to play that song, whatever [laughs]. It’s an ongoing thing, but the biggest thing for me was trying to get a grip on why I am self-destructive and trying to maintain that sobriety, ‘cause I don’t want to go back to that. I don’t want to go back to that bondage, which is interesting too because the full story of the Jews, it doesn’t end when they’re free.
BF: For forty years they wandered.
MF: Forty years! And then it goes on and on and on and on. They were rebuilding the wall. God told them they needed to build this wall and it was a divine thing. And they were like “Well… let’s do it next year, you know? There’s, like, some shit going on right now” and so they put it off for a year, and the next thing you know- fourteen years passes. They’re not listening to that spirit in ‘em going “Hey man, you know that thing I’ve been talking to you about…. you need to get on that.” So, it’s just those little things. Every story that’s been told.
BF: With Levon Helm passing recently, it has brought attention back to The Band. They made timeless music that sounded “old” to people, but was very much of their contemporaries as well. It was timeless, yet of its time, like many of the songs you played tonight.
MF: I meant to do a Levon song tonight.
BF: Songs like “Selah Selah” and “Devil Don’t Sleep Tonight” fit impeccably well next to the traditional songs you’ve arranged. Can you discuss that creative process, not only in keeping something “old” alive, but tapping into the same qualities of someone like a Thomas Dorsey when he wrote “Precious Lord”?
MF: [The creative process is] changing all the time, and you’re always chasing it. And for me, I’ve got so many things going on in my head- things like “Hey, check this out!” or “You should do this!” There are so many musical things coming at you all the time. I was just seeing this- maybe the last interview Levon did was back in February, up at his house. This guy was interviewing him, and I saw it online the day he died. My son, he just loved Levon. He met him, and Levon just loved on him too. So we were looking up stuff online and saw this interview with Levon, and Levon’s frickin’ on his deathbed, basically. It’s February, he’s sick , and as soon as the guy asks him something about what’s turning him on, what’s getting him going now, you saw him light up, man. He started talking about this Middle Eastern music that he was really digging on at the time, a few African things, but mostly Middle Eastern stuff. And [my son] Christian and I looked at each other and went “That’s weird”, ‘cause we listen to a lot of Middle Eastern stuff. And as soon as he said that, Levon went “guh, guh-guh-GAHT” [mimicing Levon]... it was really sweet.
[10:33 of the video above].
You’re always trying to allow everything to come in, and then sweep it all away and see [what’s left] and sift it. It’s a process.
BF: Talking about things always bouncing around your head, how do you know when a something is “worthy”- like “Mercy Now” by Mary Gauthier? How do you know something is worth the extra bit of attention or worth recording?
MF: A lot of times I don’t see it. A lot of times it’s a friend of mine.
BF: So sometimes it’s a trusted but external influence?
MF: Sometimes- like Marty Stuart recommended that I did “Green Green Grass of Home” and then my friend Audley Freed suggested that I…
BF: I love Audley Freed.
MF: Audley’s got a knack for picking songs for me, so if he ever says to me “Hey, you should think about doing this song,” I’ll always listen to him.
BF: There’s a version of “Selah” on YouTube with Audley backing you.
MF: I’ve been really blessed that way, too., to have so many great musicians. I want the best musicians I can find to play, ‘cause that’s what drives me- the music, you know? You get the rhythm going, the band going, the guitar player- that’s what just drives it over the top.
But you were talking about the writing process- it’s real crazy how it happens with me. There’s no really no rhyme or… I really don’t see the vision until we get into it, and then all of a sudden, I see it kind of forming in front of me, and then I go “Oh…” I have a rough draft in my mind and then it kind of just takes shape and I’m just always overwhelmed. We’re in the studio cutting horns or something and I’m almost just crying, you know, I’m so happy. It’s like, man, I had this idea, but this is so much better, that I’ve let this go and allowed God to kind of ‘let things happen’. It takes care of itself.
When I wrote “Selah”- “Selah” was written… when did 9/11… was that 2001?
BF: 2001, yeah.
MF: Yeah, I never really dreamed that it would have fit on that record the way it did. It fits [well] on what we do- it’s just crazy, man.
BF: You’re still a creative artists, who’s entering a prime of your own in terms of composing and performing. Yet, when you backed Patty Griffin up on her Austin City Limits taping, she referred to you as a legend.
MF: [laughs, nearly chokes on dinner]
BF: Right over the microphone for all to hear.
MF: When’d she do that- Austin City Limits?
BF: She said it on her Austin City Limits taping. So how do you consider yourself at this stage in your career? You’ve got a past you can be proud of, or at least step back and appreciate, yet you obviously have so many more visions for what the future could hold, and you’re in the middle of just seeing what happens. Where do you see yourself on your journey right now?
MF: Well, I was gonna ask you the same thing- I was gonna get your advice on it.. [grins]... ‘cause it’s like… I don’t know. I really don’t. I beat myself up so much in my head- I’m so up and down with it. Like, “I’m not good enough do this, I don’t know what I’m thinking”. And I really struggle with that- “Am I good enough?” or “Are these songs good enough?”, and it holds me down. It’s really a form of bondage, and… it’s my fear. I think I have a fear of succeeding in something. Thankfully, I have a loving, beautiful wife who’s just wise, wise, wise, man, and she kind of guides me on. Right now, I see… I want to develop this old spiritual music and I want to take it more primal.
BF: No one ever did for the old gospel classics what bands like Zeppelin or Cream did for the blues classics. Take Cream’s “Spoonful”- it’s got a primal sort of energy to it. Is that something you see yourself doing- not going all big arena rock, but adding that “electricity” to it?
MF: If anything, I feel like I want to make it more big and grand like on a super, Earth-shattering sound that I have in my head, which is like these tablas going on, a real rhytmic thing that’s just relentless. You know, it’s like, everybody said James Brown was a genius. James Brown was a genius and all he did was just stayed on the one and never move. He’d go to the bridge, he’d modulate every now and then he’d go back to the one and just stay there. And everybody was like- “that’s GENIUS!” [laughs].
Tina Haase Findlay: And with a whole lot of attitude!
MF: {Yeah…] And people were like “Woah- that’s different”. You know, you don’t have to have any changes at all man, it’s just primal. That’s where I see myself taking things, maybe.
BF: There was once a producer, whose name I cannot remember, who coined the term “Billboards for Jesus” because of the bands he’d have to work with for the labels who hired him. Have you ever heard that term?
MF: No!
BF: It’s the old “If you like the Black Crowes, then you’ll like… [insert] Third Day” kind of thing.
MF: Yeah, yeah, yeah!
BF: So, you’re stuck between two industries right now- the Christian Music industry, and the secular record industry- how do you keep the faith? It’s a clichè, but what does that mean to you, in the middle of fighting that war?
MF: I think it’s doing, truly man, what shakes you to your core. What knocks you off your axis and puts you in a place of ecstacy that you’ve never dreamed. If you ever reach that point, then you know you’re doing exactly what the God of this universe has put you on this Earth for. And it ain’t about money- it ain’t about nothing but peace and happiness, man, and joy. I mean sheer, sheer joy, and when you feel that, when you reach that place- ‘cause I think that’s our journey in life- the whole thing, from start to finish, is going, looking around, and trying to find that place, that makes us happy. There’s one little place in this world preserved for you. It’s out there somewhere and you may be living in it now, I don’t know, but it’s waiting for you, and you won’t really ever know true peace and happiness until you find that place and then- boom. And I think that’s what it is for me. I have found something that moves me like nothing has ever moved me, and this is what I love to do. And I don’t care what it is- just find it. Money- it all takes care of itself, you don’t really have to worry about any of that stuff.
You know, in the Bible it says, over and over again, “don’t worry”. “Don’t fear. don’t worry, turn to Me, lay your burdens on Me, don’t worry, don’t fear”. Over and over and over. It’s very important for us to not worry and not fear. Lay those things down and go and find that place that makes you happy.
