(Note: I was asked to put this up by a friend who was heavily involved in the development of the Joshua Cup's former atmosphere, one that was inclusive and open. Back then, she says, "It didn't matter that we were Christians running the place. Everyone was welcome." In my opinion, they were more Christian back then.)
This week, Joshua Cup said we couldn’t distribute there anymore because they want to be more Christian and don’t think we fit that. So, I’ll never spend another dime in there. I will not support an establishment that believes that the tenets of free will and personal responsibility should concede to the marketplace sensitivities of people who’ve imposed a code of behavior as complex and unnecessary as those developed by the Pharisees. It’s indicative of the image-oriented hypocrisy that’s rotting Christendom from within.
Granted, the Joshua Cup’s just doing what they think is right. That’s fine and on some level, admirable. I just happen to think it is to their detriment both as a community establishment and a Christian one. The reason I ever set foot in there was because a chain-smoking recovering alcoholic friend of mine took me. Before that, I thought the Joshua Cup was the snobbishly “Christian” place it apparently now seeks to be instead of the open and inclusive establishment I came to enjoy.
I’m well acquainted with the church and say this all in that context. My grandfather and my uncle are missionaries in Malawi, Africa. I preached my first sermon at age 12. I captained the Fellowship of Christian Athletes for two years. I’ve been a youth minister. My world has forever been shaped by the teachings and practice of Jesus. That will never, ever change for me. Though my lifestyle runs contrary to the mold to which many Christians adhere, my core belief has always been the same: Love God with everything you’ve got and love your neighbor like yourself. My goal is to get those things right—NOT to worry about whether I fit a particular Christian image.
While I’m offended by my brethren’s decision on purely moral grounds, I’m also wounded as someone who believes this community can do better than this. The 11th Hour is about getting out and doing something. Every issue, we endorse community theatre, live music, children’s events, museums, charities, parks and even churches—AND they all come to us. They come to us because they know that people who want to get out and do something read this paper—that includes families and Christians and teenagers and grandmas and parents and as well as the college kids who like to get drunk… even some of them that don’t.
Saturday, October 6th – Lucado’s Shuck n’ Suck
Yeah after that tirade I lead in with something called the Shuck n’ Suck. Oysters, quail, beer and the blues brought to you by the mysterious and enchanting Bill Lucado. The friend I took for my second trip there looked around at the massive gathering and asked, “Where’s the guy that invited everyone?
I nodded at the reflecting pool and said, “See that guy knee-keep in water? That’s Bill Lucado.”
He’s a free-spirited, big-hearted guy with a serious jones for good music. And when he throws a party—this year’s being the “17th annual not-completely consecutive”—it’s a big deal. Jimmy Hall and Wet Willie opened for Taj Mahal while folks drank and ate for free, just being friendly with each other, Lucado walking around with a big smile on his face. I don’t know what it takes to put on something like this but I know he’s got it.
And this year, I didn’t get so drunk that I walked downtown with a shawl around me, done for the night hours before my normal bedtime. Live and learn, my friends.
Magnificent Bastard and Thee Crucials @ the Hummingbird
My buddies are Magnificent Bastard, the opener, and I’d missed their previous outings, and that’s why I was there Saturday. They didn’t disappoint nor did they make it any easier than before to put a finger on what they sound like. It’s party music, but in a lower range, the rolling bass and a rumbling saxophone played through a guitar amp. The vocals a passionate half-scream-song sort, and the drums were decent (just messing, Miles—you’re great). It’s the kind of music that makes you want to toast people you never met. It’s happy stuff.
And they were almost completely overshadowed by Thee Crucials, who put on the wildest, most exciting show I’ve ever seen at the Hummingbird. Nearly any other small venue headliner would’ve looked shabby after Magnificent Bastard, but these guys were incredible (and extremely natty in their dapper attire). I’ve seen plenty of acts try to pull off what Thee Crucials accomplished. Most guys think they can go out into the crowd and dance around and stick the mic out to get a reaction. It works for Thee Crucials because it doesn’t look like lead singer Shake Revard can help himself—audience be damned, he’s coming out there!
Towards the end, he not only stood on the bar and on tables, Revard climbed on an old guy’s back and rode him around the dancefloor singing. And when the enthusiasm is so contagious that “pretty boy” guitarist Donnelly Carruthers and “stunt guitarist” El Captain come out to join Revard… well, let’s just say I was expecting the drummer to get up with a strap-on drumline and join the party too. That’s moxie. Long live Thee Crucials!
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