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As dependably as dawn follows the dead of night, so an Eric Peters project percolates with hope. Superman wears an "S" on his chest. Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter features protagonist Hester Prynne with a prominent "A" stitched over her heart. In the same way, if indeed the singular letter provides some characterization of the person, Peters might consult his tailor about cutting out a large white "H," and sewing it prominently to the front side of a plain black T-shirt. While fear, pain, apprehension, desperation, and sin might represent the void of the black, they virtually disappear as one's focal point converges on the allusive letter. In contrast, the white "H' symbolizes the purity and truth of hope-the preeminent, perpetual theme of The "H" man, cloaked in a motif that it would appear he holds close to his heart. Meet Sir Eric Peters.

White hot from the CD factory, Peters' latest effort frames the recurrent headline of hope with what sounds like something closer to confident assurance. In short, somewhere between the 2001 masterpiece Land of the Living, and his latest release Scarce-the flavor of hope that Peters' work emits has evolved ever closer to a tone that is now seemingly more resolute and mature.

Hope's complexion can range from wishful thinking to certitude, depending on the day, the object of that hope, or even what one consumed for breakfast. Despite that, the lyrics from Scarce, while intermittently contrite and timorous as in previous efforts, seem to be generally strengthened and bolstered this time by roots that have grown
deeper, radiating an implicit grit, security, and confidence.

Vaguely reminiscent of the lyrical tone from "Every Breath You Take," from The Police, Peters opens the project with "Radiate," a sparkling little pop jewel which is vintage Eric Peters. In the early bars of the instrumental opening, Peters' production team chose to leave his Louisiana accented query, "What you want me to do, just play," in the mix. The off-handed question, which Peters likely did not intend for us to hear, was apparently directed to producer/engineer/mixer extraordinaire Brent Milligan. This behind-the-curtain peek is at once whimsical, and creatively appropriate for the first track. But with the meter rapidly ticking on typically expensive studio time-like what else is Peters going to do, but "just play"?

"Radiate" illustrates the sort of introspection for which Peters has become famous in the world of indie artists. While the lyrics don't particularly reveal if the texture of the song refers to Peters' career or-more broadly-his life, the specifics seem less relevant than the essence of the sublime denouement. Indeed, in the context of a three
minute pop showpiece, Peters offers up a series of snapshots, ending with acceptance and the truism that the journey is at least as important as the destination. Dreams and accomplishments, money, fame, and material resources-they crash into our hearts and minds like cruel carnival bumper cars gone haywire. Finding solitude and context in the midst of such noisy distraction can divert attention from that that which is more substantive. While at first glance such penetrating discussion might seem rather weighty for a pop song, do note; "Radiate" is an Eric Peters pop song.

The tune begins sparsely, with a choppy guitar, embellished with some fanciful Ben Shive keyboard tinkles. Then, with a Ken Lewis drum flurry leading the way and as the chorus emerges, Milligan employs some production sleight-of-hand that reappears more than once on this project. Like an aural avalanche-a veritable wall of sound-we ride a glorious sonic wave, like a runaway roller coaster. With split second precision, the musical canvas seems to multiply from four to 24 tracks as Peters inexorably belts out the indelible chorus:

Every single breath I take, radiate, radiate
Every moment I'm awake, radiate, radiate

Inevitably, an Eric Peters project provides a bushel basket full of goose bump moments-those junctures where lyric and music intertwine and reverberate with truth in such a way as to generate an endearing emotional rush-those ecstatic listening moments when dopamine flows like the rapids of a raging river.

For instance, the bridge from "The Storm," which could have appropriately been titled, "Holy Embrace," features at least one such moment. This evocative composition artfully spotlights the eternal "I AM," with Old Testament allusions and a medieval ambiance that earnestly supports the project's theme. The great paradox of Christianity is that one discovers strength and victory when he most intimately understands and accepts his utter weakness and inability to please God through his own misguided and misplaced efforts. So when in solemn bearing Peters sings, "Drenched in mercy and dripping holy tears / Dressed in kingly garments from my toes to my ears," my inner being is inspired and shimmers with a graceful reverence for the gospel's transcendental, elegant, assured outcome wrapped in a glorious celestial vision.

A velvet soft adrenaline moment occurs during the waning moments of "Save Something for Grace," with soaring, ethereal background vocals. Layers of Eric Peters performing his own supporting vocals are thrust into center stage, while the listener is ingeniously led to fill in the unsung blanks in his own head. While the instruments play the line "Save Something for Grace," without vocals-we are none to subtly moved to sing the line internally-as Peters' vocals echo with a flourish, "While she's raising the sky," and "When there's hope still in her eyes." It's moments like these that allow us to easily discern the extent to which Eric Peters is far more than just another underpaid singer/songwriter; He's an artist in every sense of the word.

More than any other effort on Scarce, "Save Something for Grace" is the nexus of the entire project, masterfully providing thematic linkage to the rest of the songs. Like Chuck Girard in the early Jesus Music song "Tinagera," with innovation, Peters uses a woman's name to illustrate a viewpoint. And while Peters apparently prefers to think of his work as impressionistic, not dogma-camouflaging doctrine that one internalizes with such passion is a lofty challenge, indeed.

The first verse of "Save Something for Grace" calls to mind Andrew Peterson's "High Noon," itself inspired by the classic western of the same name. Ironically, in Peters' twist from this main street showdown, we face none other than ... ourselves.  "Quiet eyes in a blaze of shame, like a beast of burden you could never tame,"  incontrovertibly provides evidence in and of itself that Eric Peters is one of the best songwriters this side of the Ponderosa.  "We try to be holy without being human first," in one agile motion, indicts the entire human race, including believers, whom collectively and individually often myopically focus on looking good to the exclusion of being good. But for Christians and the rest of the human race, Peters' offers up some good news from the breathtakingly beautiful bridge:

We live as though mercy were frail
And forgiveness merely a tale
We condemn ourselves to a fault
When we fail, when we fall
We find we're human after all

Why, as a lover of all stringed instruments, must my admiration end with the obscure and misunderstood bouzouki? It's simple. I just don't care for the unusually sharp metallic intonation. I promise; I have nothing personal against this clumsy construction of wire and wood. In fact, as "Kansas" gathers steam, my polite patronizing smile germinates into the tempered, middle-aged version of head-banging, with yet another patented and memorable Eric Peters refrain-a glorious driving counterpoint to the
infamous bouzouki. Ah, such sweet redemption!

Those that have come to appreciate the exquisite images that grace Peters' other musical collections may be surprised by the understated, bare-bones design of the Scarce artwork. Birmingham photographer and graphic artist Winslow Taft concocted a restrained, homespun cover that is in keeping with the unvarnished theme that Peters adopted for this undertaking. And while the average title of the average recording artist project often seems like an afterthought, not so with Eric Peters. Without stretching, nearly every component of Scarce contributes to the whole, like individual puzzle pieces that form the aggregate. If one were missing, we might notice. On the other hand, unlike a jigsaw puzzle-each piece of Scarce is exhaustive enough in beauty and thematic consistency, to virtually stand on its own.

In the transparently melancholy tradition of "Yesterday," "Bridge Over Troubled Waters," and "Hold Me Jesus," enter Peters' magnum opus "Tomorrow." It's a pleading, hauntingly beautiful ode to loneliness, fear, pain, and borderline desperation. The man has written an instant classic. It's an austere arrangement that provides a musical spotlight for the keyboard wizardry of the quietly and quickly emerging Ben Shive. David Mead supporters might notice a tip of the hat to Mead in the starkly beautiful line, "When I find myself alone, afraid of being known, and holding on for life." The tender dance of Brent Milligan's cello fused with Shive's organic piano is a moment of pure, elegant beauty-one of the standout instrumental slices from the project.

In the general time frame that this review was written, I rented the DVD Stand by Me. It's a mid '80's movie adapted from the Stephen King novella The Body. a loosely autobiographical account of an overnight hike by four youngsters seeking the body of a boy who had been struck by a train. In an accompanying featurette, King comments on a fleeting solo experience one of the young characters had while hiking. In an almost magical appearance less than fifteen feet away, a doe locks eyes with the boy, eclipsing the past and present with an indelible moment that may burn in his heart until his dying day. And rather than sharing the moment, the kid chooses to keep it private. In fact, King suggests that the boy made the right decision--that once one begins expressing such a moment with words, it almost cheapens and devalues the experience.

As a reviewer, I understand and tend to agree with King's premise. Wrestling with wholly inadequate words is like delusively rubbing two sticks together in attempt to create warmth with a lowly spark. Meanwhile, a raging bonfire burns away wildly in my headphones.

There are plenty of trivial reasons to own Scarce. Secure this CD to hear the Switchfootesque introduction on a couple of the songs. Look for an '80's guitar lick or two, reminiscent of The Outfield or The Hooters. Introduce yourself to Mollie Garrigan, lending blue-eyed soul seasoning and spot-on harmony to "In the Meantime," though producer Milligan might have tempered the skillful lady's unrestrained splash, which as mixed, was close to being excessive. Notice the infectious Turtles-like obligatory '60's pop extract that tags "Metropolis" and try to restrain yourself from singing along. Venture an answer to the question, "Is 'Metropolis' a creative songwriters' designation for "community?" Discover the latest bag of ear candy that Peters and Milligan sprinkle generously through this project-those embedded sugar coated musical moments leading from one musical passageway to another. Challenge your foot to remain frozen as the persuasive percussion in "You Come Over Me" beckons otherwise. Certainly, Scarce is worth having for these frivolous questions and incidental goods alone.

Still, there's a far more exalted and noble reason for making this CD part of your collection: the opportunity to discover Eric Peters, the man-and by extension-that which inspires and galvanizes the man. While it's unlikely that Peters will don a cape or white "H" any time soon, he is a superhero of sorts in that his work helps personify that curious paradox-the tension between those two other "H" words-human and holy. If God chose the weak things of the world to shame and confound those people and things that are superficially strong, and if weakness represents a place to find a glimpse of God-it's quite worth navigating the ambiguity-as it becomes the secret key to majestic treasure. 

Put differently, the denotation of the word "scarce" is two-pronged, with what seem like ostensibly contradictory definitions. While "scarce" is often defined as "insufficient to meet a demand or requirement," it also means, "Hard to find, or rare." Decidedly far removed from trivial, it's the blending and bonding of these two disparate definitions that marks Eric Peters' latest effort as stately and grand.

Curt McLey