This fantastic shot of a desolate Baltimore city street was taken by Patrick Joust, and is used with his permission and patience. Thanks to him; please see more of work, starting here.

The first five years of our lives define our path, irretrievably some say. I work with young adults that have been pretty well screwed in the nature and nurture department. You’d be surprised how everything from the presence of a father to the presence of lead paint can affect a child’s development. Studies show that crime spreads with the migration of criminals. Studies show that America is a dangerous country to live in. Studies show that the human brain is an organ. Studies show nothing of morals.

These days, I’d trade my skin for a clean escape. Dan Philips is a man who once wrote a song called “Dreams of Vagrancy;” perhaps he felt the tenuous nature of a priveleged white upper-class existence. Perhaps he felt the ghastly lure of addiction round the unseen corner. Perhaps he felt his blood beat boldly in his veins. Dan Philips is a man of the blood.

Without wanting to reveal all his cards to the prying public, I will volunteer this information: Dan Philips was nurtured by caring, educated stock. He was encouraged to become whole, and he was swamped in ol’ time religion (as was I). Maybe that revival tent seemed dangerous. Maybe the long stare of the evangelist cast the same spell of the cold precision of the mobster. In “Grunts N Groans,” Dan lays out the human animal in its barest form, and connects the dope fiend to the slain believer. He pulls no punches when it comes to human motivation, and our reptilian brians fight or flee when faced with hunger and entrapment. Dan’s music pits the human animal against the elements, and divine grace is legendary and fleeting at best. The best we can hope for in Dan’s grim world – the fragile we, with outstretched arms – are cagey parental expressions of love in the form of long stares and coded silences.

“Dan’s grim world:” that sounds patronizing and cheap. This is a rich and traveled man. He and his old hairy eyebrows (see tomorrow’s post for more on that) have poured more love and grace into the grim world than almost any other saint I know. He is both welcoming and private, and I fear I am intruding with my words. I hope to go on more in this direction tomorrow, but for now let’s stick with the music. Have a listen for yourself, absorb the country piano and the backwoods drawl, and contemplate your own private life of crime and your own brushes with calamity.

Dan Philips: Grunts N Groans