The Fredösphere

Five minutes ago, I couldn't even spell cow bellist -- now I are one.  Back in the late 80s a Christian pop trio called First Call, backed up by an African choir, recorded a Swahili chorus called O Sifuni Mungu.  Yesterday my church choir got a chance to sing it for my congregation.  I was pleased that so many people appreciated it; one person reportedly sat through part of a second service just to hear us sing it again -- a miracle!  I indulged myself a bit by singing the opening solo, and by playing cow bell.  I hope my conducting with a drum stick was not too distracting.  Here the Choirs Sing has several performances of O Sifuni Mungu which vary widely in approach and quality; maybe its just me, but I found the unsuccessful ones fascinating like a accident on the side of the road.

Meanwhile...

A Cappella News tells the story of Solomon Linda, a Zulu migrant worker who composed the song MBube, which we know as The Lion Sleeps Tonight.  His lawyers took Disney to court, and won.  Posthumously.

I'm so glad I don't work for an organization that provides a public website for people to say bad things about me, like some people.  These complaints are fascinating like a accident on the side of the road.

Many admire this translation of the Bible for the power of its language; others call it outdated, anachronistic, irrelevant.  I'm refering of course to God Is For Real, Man.  Here's The Lord is my Probation Officer and "give me some skin, Lord" and maybe even Gabriel greeting Mary with "Yo, Foxy Momma".  Similarly earnest, and therefore similarly tragically flawed, is the Cotton Patch New Testament.  These are fascinating like an accident on the ... oh, you know.