My Trip to Cornerstone 2006
By Jim Sanders
Tents. Gyros. Dusty roads.
Rows of port-a-potties. Why
do I come back to this place over Fourth of July weekend every year? To this farm three and a
half-hours north of St. Louis, three hours west of Chicago, and near nothing
significant. Because this is the
Cornerstone Festival, confluence of wonderful music, interesting films, a
diverse array of people, assorted sundry weirdness, and a genuine spirit of
creativity and Christians getting together to have a great time. So this past July I trekked here for
the tenth time. It I go anywhere
ten times in my life, it had better be someplace significant. But Cornerstone is a unique place
unlike anything else, and certainly a lot more fun than getting lost in half a
million people at the Fourth of July fair on the St. Louis riverfront,
straining to catch a glimpse of Hootie and the Blowfish on a distant stage.
So
it on the evening of July 4th, I pulled onto the familiar dirt road
lined on both sides with tents and kids dressed in black wandering around. I found a camping spot next to the
lake, and just down the hill from the main gathering of seminar tents, the barn
that houses the Flickerings film festival, and the Gyros stand. After setting up my humble dome tent, I
stood back satisfied at the air mattress and sleeping bag that would separate
me from the hard ground as I slept.
I hoped the shadow from the small tree standing sentinel over my
campsite wouldn't totally disappear by the morning. But put those thoughts aside. The merchandise tent was calling. I always try to get my splurge of cheap CDs at Radrockers
over with first thing when I get here.
As I walked into the tent I heard a Servant CD playing in the tiny boom
box sitting behind the cash register in the RadRockers corner. It brought back memories of youth
groups in the early 1980s when I was taught to listen to Christian rock instead
of "secular" music with lyrics glorifying sex and drugs. Now my musical tastes and discerning
abilities have matured quite a bit since then. But "Heidelberg Blues" is a
pretty cool song; the cheesy keyboard sounds on the rest of the Rocking Revival
CD notwithstanding. I picked up a
bag filled with the sounds of my Christian youth for less than thirty bucks,
enough for many trips down memory lane.
That will wait until after Cornerstone, though, because I have four days
of music ahead of me.
I started to walk back toward my tent
when saw the flicker of a movie screen through the opening of the Imaginarium
tent. Curious, I walked in and
entered the surreal world of the first Imaginarium Bad Movie Night. Tonight's film is Night of the Lepus, a
1970s horror film about a town attacked by genetically altered killer rabbits. Is that horror or horrible, I can't
decide. But the dialogue is so
atrocious and the effects of rabbits magnified through camera trickery, I had a
good time listening to the Mystery Science Theater 3000-style commentary
provided by the audience. But as I
sauntered back to my tent that night, I hoped I didn't have any dreams about
killer rabbits, or snakes on planes.
The
next morning, I awoke early. Fortunately, unlike last year, I wasn't serenaded
by AC/DC blasting from someone's stereo.
I wandered through the grounds, which were quiet at this early hour of
10:00 AM. I stopped by Camp 77s to
meet some Cornerstone regulars, and then met more old friends at the RMC
BBQ. OK, RMC, an old Usenet
newsgroup doesn't exist anymore.
And it wasn't a BBQ. But I
enjoyed the opportunity to dine on sandwiches and cake at the Cornerstone Press
Tent with people I've known for a few years from the Daniel Amos Discussion
List (DADL) and the Phantom Tollbooth.
I pick up some rare Prodigal and Charlie Peacock cassettes from the grab
bag, and then walk out to hear the unmistakable rumble of drums, roaring
guitars, and growls that sound like a herd of constipated buffalo. Yes, Cornerstone is underway, with emo
and screamo bands playing on makeshift stages set up among the campsites. After ten Cornerstones, I have learned
to tune out the screamers.
However, one band of group burly men in black T-shirts with hair hanging
down to their navels gets my attention.
They flung their hair violently back and forth like they are
participating in a charismatic religious revival while high on speed. What's even better, instead of the
standard screamo generic crunching guitar rhythm, they are playing some kind of
1980s speed metal riff. I feel
like I've entered a time warp and it's 1989 all over again! All they need is for one of the guys to
whirl his head in a circular motion and fling his hair like a pinwheel, and
I'll swear I'm watching Vengeance Rising again. The hair flinging is entertaining to watch for a few
minutes, and then I walk away, but not before noticing the name of this stage:
the Lori Ann stage. I have no idea
who Lori Ann is, but I'll have to ask her if she'll book Deliverance next
year.
Behind the hair flingers an actual tent is set up,
which means I can grab some shade!
There I saw some real music: acoustic sets by Darren Oliver and by Jeff
Elbel and some members of Ping.
Only for this afternoon only, he has changed the name of his band to the
best name I've ever seen at Cornerstone: Pilate Error. If I knew how to play guitar, I would
steal that name for my own band.
They played a few Ping songs before closing with a classic American
song: Kenny Rogers' The
Gambler. After basking in
the glory of this inspiring tale of instruction in the sport of Texas Hold 'Em,
I followed some friends to the Cornerstone Press Tent to see the Lost Dogs and
the 77s give press conferences.
Only one dog was present, Mike Roe, along with Steve Hindalong, but they
had a good rapport with the folks from the Phantom Tollbooth. The thing that was pretty neat was
meeting a guy who had waited his whole life to finally make it to Cornerstone
and see his favorite bands, the Lost Dogs and the '77s. I remember the first time I saw the
'77s at Cornerstone '92, and the euphoria of seeing live the band I had been
listening to on CD and cheap cassettes for years. I knew this guy was going to have the time of his life.
After some Gyros for dinner, I sauntered over the to
Flickerings barn to introduce myself to the film festival. I missed the first afternoon screening
to watch Jeff Elbel's Kenny Rogers' impersonation, so I was happy to catch up
with Mike Hertenstein and Doug Cummings, whom I met at last year's Flickerings
festival. Tonight's film was a
French documentary called The Gleaners and I. It was a look at the people who pick the leftovers of crop
harvests, picking up what is missed by the machinery. I enjoyed the warm and whimsical tribute to the people who
get left behind by modern progress.
But I have to admit; I was distracted, looking ahead to the highlight of
every year's Cornerstone, The Lost Dogs!
And as a bonus this year, the 77s were scheduled to appear for the first
time since 2003. And the show was
every bit as incredible as these bands always deliver. The Lost Dogs played an
energized set due to having a new CD out, and their new songs were
terrific. Their harmonies evoked
the great vocal groups like Crosby Stills Nash and Young. (Kids, if you don't know who those guys
are, ask your dad. He was jamming
on them in 1970). And during the
show, Terry Taylor did some of his classic shtick. He displayed a collection of barely edible collections
of disgusting sugar snacks sold in gas station convenience stores. He pulled out an unlit cigar like he
was having his picture taken for the cover of Cigar Aficionado magazine. A cigar at a Christian Music festival,
what a scandal? What's next, a
Lynrd Skynrd cover? Finally, Terry
shared the story of going to a Barry McGuire concert in the 1970s, and hearing
an uptight Christian couple behind him comment on whether Barry was anointed or
"in the flesh" depending on whether he sung his Christian songs or one of his
oldies from his days in the clean cut but still "secular" New Christy
Minstrels. In that spirit, Terry
produced a cardboard meter with a pointer that displayed whether he and his
band mates were "in the flesh" or "anointed". Of course, Derri and Mike were "in the flesh" and Terry was
always "anointed." After finishing with "Eleanor It's Raining", featuring a
Mike Roe guitar solo that could bring tears to ones eyes (very "anointed"
despite what the Throne-o-Meter might say), the 77s took the stage and rocked
the midnight gathering. Even when
Mike Roe tried to tell a joke, causing Derri to walk across the stage with the
Throne-o-meter pegged on "in the flesh", it couldn't eclipse his guitar
prowess. Another thing that was
special was seeing a guy in the audience who I met at the press conference, who
had waited all his life to make it to Cornerstone and finally see his favorite
bands, the Lost Dogs and 77s. As
he stared at the band in awe like a young girl seeing the Beatles for the first
time in 1966, I thought, "that's what rock and roll can do." Things got even sweeter at the end of
the set when the 77s ended with two classic songs from the '80s: "Can't Get
Over It" and "Do it for Love" that evoked memories of the band closing their
'92 set with the song, where I joined the audience in singing the chorus for
fifteen minutes after the band left the stage.