His only job is music, and he is good at it. Independent artist Jonathan Rundman focuses all of his time on his music, making it and selling it, but beyond the hype and self promotion of Recital, Rundman's third independent release, are seventeen songs that can withstand a little puffery.
Reading the liner notes, the production is obviously home brewed. It was written, arranged and produced by Rundman who doubled, tripled, even quadrupled instruments and vocals on the CD that features guitars, bass, mandolin, melodica, "$20 pawnshop keyboard," and a "1991 Mazda Protégé horn sample." Nothing amateurish or self-indulgent mars the settings. This is Rundman's only job, and he's good at it.
His voice is dead ringer for Keith Green or Larry Norman, a high, impassioned tenor, but he isn't here to shout about his faith. Rundman splits his professional performances between commercial venues (he hosts a weekly songwriter's open mike session in one of Chicago's most fashionable singles neighborhoods) and Lutheran church events. This album is for the coffeehouse and college gigs. It is full of inventive writing designed to capture the attention of fickle, uninterested audiences.
The album embodies the plain, straightforward presentation that the
Midwest is famous for. Some songs use deceptively concrete metaphors:
a suburban housing development in "Nothing Old, Nothing New" is
actually an ode to his marriage, in "Only If," a tirade about a
former friendship, money is the unifying device. He draws upon folk
music's time-honored political tradition in "Meeting Nixon." Several
other ambitious characters make their appearance in the writing:
style-driven hipsters sing "Front row at the Fashion Show," a
drummer describes meeting his great love in "(Caught Up in Your)
Snare." "Whistler's Mother" adds some social awareness to the mix,
and "Tape" grounds Rundman firmly in his generation--the cassette
tapers (after 8-tracks, and before CDs). His songs simply describe
his world; as best he understands it. "Janesville" is an ode to
small town life, "Tell Me Where You Want to Go" and "Recital" are
celebrations of friends's potential, "Grace is Crying Her Eyes Out"
a meditation on a day as a bit-player making a movie.
There is a powerful statement of faith in one song, "When Rising from the Bed of Death," a sixteenth century poem by Thomas Tallis. This is a compelling historic gem obscured by an odd musical arrangement. With the right melody, it could well become the spiritual touchstone to Rundman's times, much like Judy Collin's "Amazing Grace" in the sixties burned John Newton's autobiographical hymn into the consciousness of the popular culture:
By Linda T. Stonehocker (11/14/98)
For ordering information, contact:
Salt Lady Records
crfrudmadl@crf.cuis.edu
