video

filmed at heirloom east bay
shot / edited by Jonathan Pickett
title design by Grace Liestman

“hallelujah! in major and minor” by David Depuy Liestman
Amy McClanahan: percussion
Caitlin Ashley Wraith: vox
David Liestman: banjo, vox
Haplin Hills: guitar, vox
James Bishop: production, vox
Michael Freed: violin, vox

JP resurrected this track from “the fabric and veil,” originally recorded on the evenings of April 30th and May 4th at Mid City Church of the Nazarene in City Heights, San Diego. it was mixed and recorded live without any edits on an Akai gx-4000D reel to reel using 1/4” stereo tape at a speed of 3.75 inches per second.

filmed in Doc Wood’s office at PLNU and designed by Erin Liestman
Nicholas Macedo: camera
Analise Nelson: audio, recording
Jonathan Pickett: camera, edit

“Father Abraham/King David’s Lament” by David DePuy Liestman
Emma Freed: vox, harmonium
Michael Freed: violin, mandolin
Haplin Milgrom-Hills: electric guitar, Akai GX-4000D tape machine
David Liestman: acoustic guitar, vox
Grace Liestman: glockenspiel

Father Abraham/King David’s Lament was recorded live at PLNU March 11, 2018 for an NPR Tiny Desk contest with Jonathan Pickett directing the videography. The total length ended up being about 15 seconds over the entry limit, and I’m thinking someone may have gotten salty over the merged track. It never made it to the entry page. Maybe it was all too big-business. Irony aside, the result was intimately beautiful and a joy to rehearse, film, and record.

Like this:

The Laments still feel vulnerable for me. 2 years into marriage, and I am still afraid of the possibility of having and raising a child; I am still uncovering catacombs of memories, still unlocking doors, entering and leaving liminal space, still looking behind and finding a Shadow walking behind me. I am still mourning the past, walking with ghosts.

Still, these surgeries of core emotion and descent into wells of ashes feel beautiful and concrete, humbling–walking blindly in the dark and finding light to give shadow; listening in emptiness and hearing a heartbeat lying beside you: removing from our bodies the stained-white sheets and revealing the human beneath and, though doubted, the soul buried deep within a primordial call for Love. Then, were we like those who dream: when our fortunes are restored, and the gold returned to us, singing long forgotten songs of joy. In this eucharist, we are beautiful. And I find, too, that I am more beautiful because of this: the descent of the soul, uncovering anger, conquering of the Shadow Brute, and the return to joy.

Composing and singing this music feels very similar to a sacred space, for me. It feels like I’m uncovering something reverent and hidden–sometimes like a treasure I shouldn’t be uncovering!–but ultimately, a truth that is safe and kind, that I can hold, breathe in, and give back as gift. I’d like to invite you into that exchange, as a gift, like this.

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