Let’s be honest: I’m no music reviewer. When I was in 8th grade, the high school band director gathered all of us in the middle school cafeteria and made us take a proficiency test to determine who would be invited to be a part of the next year’s high school band. I definitely got the “don’t call us, we’ll call you” speech.
I couldn’t pick Lady GaGa out of a police lineup. Or a butcher’s display case, depending on what outfit she’s wearing.
I don’t know my hip from my hop, I can name all four Beatles but not four of their songs, and my music collection consists of whatever is free on iTunes.
But by golly, I know what I like.
The Summit’s own Sam Fisher is releasing a CD of original music. This Friday we’re hosting a big release party that you can read about here. And because I’m a big shot Campus Pastor that has a blog readership of tens of people, I was asked to listen to the CD (which I’m keepin’ until they pry it out of my cold, dead hands) and tell you all about it.
Which I won’t.
At least not in the snobby way that most music reviewers would: “Fisher’s sophomore effort consisted of an honest grasp on tenacity, undergirded by caramelly-sweet tones, not unlike the melodic pinings of bygone artists of a previous generation.”
Nope, this is my five-word review: Sam rocked my face off.
Sam Fisher is the guy that we force to carry a corded microphone whenever he leads worship at the Summit. If we didn’t, he’d dance right off the stage, pulling a Crocodile Dundee-like move where he walks right over the heads of the people in the auditorium. Most pastors want their people to tithe money. I just want Sam to tithe a little soul. I want him to fix the fact that I’m caucasianally-challenged. He has more energy and more rhythm than any three people ought to have. He’s a talented musician, and he’s put out one hot CD.
I listened to it for a chunk of last week, except when people would drop in my office and I’d have to hit “mute” because this CD is contraband. I’m not supposed to have it, and yet I do. I carry it from the office to the car attached to my wrist by a set of handcuffs. I whisper about it in hushed tones, because I’m afraid someone will knock me over the head and take it away.
Here’s the deal: you need to get this CD. And you can get this CD a whoppin’ four days earlier than the uncultured general public. Show up this Friday night at 7:30 in the Brier Creek auditorium, and we’ll sell you all the CDs your greasy little hands can hold. All proceeds go back into a fund to produce future worship recordings at the Summit. And at the same time, you can listen to Sam and the band perform the CD live.
Let’s hope he has a cord.