Kyle Lent

New Era

1/19/2010 9:56 PM

The band that I play with, The Justin Cofield Band, just posted a "grand experiment" a few days ago on our website. Check it out:

thejustincofieldband.com

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"Telegraph" Demo

12/28/2009 6:31 PM

Here's a demo for a new song called "Telegraph" that I was working on last night:

Click to listen

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Genesis

10/20/2009 3:28 PM

A film for Austin Stone Community Church for their "Genesis" series, featuring footage shot by Jeremy Rodgers. I had the privilege of composing and recording some music for it. To listen to the full piece (the video uses an edited version), click here.

In The Beginning... from The Austin Stone on Vimeo.

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Genesis

10/20/2009 3:24 PM

In The Beginning... from The Austin Stone on Vimeo.

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Artist Night

10/10/2009 6:50 PM

I had the pleasure of taking part in the 2nd (I think) incarnation of Artist Night at Aaron Ivey's house last night. It consists of artists from a wide variety of mediums - song, poetry, photography, etc. getting together and sharing their craft.

It was a blessing to be a part of and see how different people use their gifts. Most played a song or two, each sharing as much or as little about their music as they wish. There were straight up worship songs, singer/songwriter songs, indie rock songs, and any/every-thing in that vein. There were some new to the craft and some who had been doing it for years and years. The idea is that you can share what you want to share without criticism or judgement.

As a songwriter you often find yourself inside for a long period of time. Writing a record, I may not set foot outside or really even speak to anybody else for a week. You sort of get trapped in the cycle of trying to finish a song, and 90% in, you get struck by a new idea and follow that tangent for awhile. Sometimes you don't finish that first song. But sometimes it takes that first throwaway song to inspire the really great stuff.

So it was nice to sort of affirm for myself that other writers struggle with the same things and are constantly unsure of their material. One of the biggest questions I've always maintained as I write songs is "When is it done?" Unlike most projects in life that have a set conclusion or a definite finality, songwriting (or any sort of art, really) is very fluid and sometimes its difficult to determine when you've reached the end of a particular piece. I built a work bench in my garage recently, and I knew that once I nailed in the plywood top and hung the pegboard, it was done. It was completely finished. Writing a song, however, is completely different because it only ever really exists as an idea anyway. You can always - even after its recorded - destruct it and build it up another way. "Do I need another verse? Do I need to remove a verse?" There's no solid answer to these questions and it ends up being almost purely instinctual, for better or worse. If it feels right then its done. But what if two different things feel right? Should be upbeat and happy or downbeat and melancholy? Both ways sound nice of their own accord, but which is right? It's almost impossible to make that decision at times.

I was happy to be amidst some other writers who struggle with the same things on their music. Sometimes it takes playing it in front of other people - even if it's just 30 people - to know which is the right way. It's amazing, actually. Sometimes, as you're singing it, you realize that that one lyric you were unsure about really doesn't work after all. It's perfectly clear as it's coming out of your mouth: "Yeah, that doesn't fit. I need to change that one." It's like anything else in life: community brings out the best in you.

I played a song called "Only Halfway" (which I've demo-ed in the "Sights" section on this site) and a brand new one called "Love". Playing them for people made me realize instantly what I like and don't like about each song, and now I can tweak them and make them better.

Finally I think I'm ready to undertake beginning a new record. I have around 50 completed songs that will be vying for 12 or so spots on a record. It's a tough process to ultimately admit that a song you worked on for months just isn't quite good enough to make the cut in the end. It's pretty humbling, but it finally means I can clear my head of these and get on to new music.

Let's begin.

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Well...

10/6/2009 9:59 AM

Not off to a good start with re-launching the blog am I? I think getting out the habit of writing is making it hard to get back into it! I'll think of something good to write about soon. :-)

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"If I Saw You" (Demo)

9/14/2009 4:56 PM

Demo of new song "If I Saw You".

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"Up In Flames" Demo

9/12/2009 5:50 PM

Demo of new song "Up In Flames".

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"Only Halfway" Demo

9/12/2009 5:46 PM

The first in a series of videos I'll be posting as I begin work on a new record. These first videos are simply of me recording demos for new songs.

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September 11

9/11/2009 2:41 PM

September 11, 2001 is for my generation what the JFK assassination was for my parent's. It's easy to remember where you were and what you were doing when it happened. Today, as I was reading some status updates on Facebook, I was momentarily disturbed that most people's "remembrances" of September 11 were only mentions of "this is where I was when I heard" instead of anything related to the actual event. It seemed sort of short-sighted at first, considering everything that happened on that day, to simply boil it down to what you were doing. But then I realized that that is about the only way to make real some things that are tough to fathom. Tough to cope with. I don't personally know anyone who was affected by that day's disastrous events, anyone who lost a loved one. All that I know is how it made me feel and how it affected those of us who were 3000 miles away from it. Remembering the little details on where I was and what I was doing seem to be the only way I can connect with those who went through it. It's not vain to talk about where you were when it happened... it's trying to share the load in some small way. Telling our stories, no matter how insignificant, helps connect us to one another.

I was a sophomore at Texas Tech, living in a single room on the 3rd floor of Clement dormitory. I had a class Tuesday morning at 9:30, so I woke up at about 8:45 to get ready and go. I had a tiny 9" TV in my room that wouldn't get cable, just basic network stations. At about 9am, just a few minutes before I was going to leave, I turned on NBC to get an idea of what the weather would be like, and saw "Breaking News" with the image of the north tower smoking. I remember instinctually thinking that it was probably a fire that had started accidentally or something up on the higher floors, and thought this for a minute or two until they re-iterated that a plane had hit it. My first reaction was confusion, trying to figure out how that was possible, and what a terrible mistake the pilot or air traffic controller must have made. Or possibly that there had been some mechanical failure. I couldn't imagine any other scenario. It was obviously a terrible tragedy, and certainly scary, but you didn't think of it in broader terms than that.

About then, the newscaster said "Oh God" and the camera panned out to show the second plane approaching the south tower, which then exploded into a fireball. I was completely confused by what I was seeing. At first I assumed that they were showing a replay of (what I thought was) the plane hitting the north tower. I found it strange that they didn't say, "Once again, let's take a look at what happened 15 minutes ago" or anything like that to precede showing this clip. Just jumping straight into the replay without a word. It looked terrible. I couldn't believe that had happened. Then I slowly began to realize that both towers were smoking now, and I distinctly remember only the north tower smoking just moments before. All of these thoughts passed, of course, in the matter of two seconds, before the newscaster even had time to say "Oh God, a second plane has hit the other World Trade Center."

I'm pretty confident when I say that was the instant when all of us watching TV realized what was happening. Approximately 5 seconds after the second plane hit the south tower our collective heart sank all at the same time, all over the country. That the first wasn't an accident or some freak thing. There was maybe - maybe - a millisecond where, in your mind, you think, "What?!? What are the chances of two accidental plane crashes within 15 minutes of each other on two tall buildings?" That might have crossed through your mind for a split second before the realization sank in, and even that was only because you could never have imagined something like this happening - there had to be some sort of logical explanation.

But it only took several seconds to realize that this was all on purpose, all planned. I remember sitting down then on my square of dorm room carpet - not much more than a rug - on my knees, hands over my mouth trying to reconcile what I was seeing. The newscaster said "Oh God, oh God, oh God" and you get that distinct feeling of the rest of the world fading away, everything zooming into this. Not only blinders, but blackout blinders to everything else. Like looking through binoculars where the edges are all black. Through my door, down the hall, and through another dorm room door I heard someone yell "What the f***!" You could almost feel the entire dorm building simultaneously draw in a breath and hold it as we were all sitting in front of our TVs flabbergasted.

For what seemed like 2 minutes (but was actually 30) I just sat there staring at the TV, and they replayed the impact of the second plane over and over. They talked about how this was obviously sort of attack with hijacked planes and the FAA was scrambling, shutting down flights and airports and whatever they were doing. I admit that I don't recall exactly what happened in that interim, what they were talking about. It was kind of like trying to have a conversation with a friend on the phone while you're busy at work on something else. You hear the words but they don't really stick.

When they announced at 9:40ish that a third plane had struck the Pentagon I remember distinctly thinking that this was the end of the world. That, like Pearl Harbor times ten, some unknown enemy had been lying in wait, planning and plotting, developing a strategy in complete secret that was now being rolled out to full effect. What could it be except the end of the world when you are unready, unarmed, unprepared? It wouldn't stop. They would demolish you. Do you remember when you were a kid and you would crush an ant? You pretended you were some sort of giant, and no matter how strong the ant might be relative to its own size, there's certainly no defense it can offer against such a mighty foe as yourself. It may be able to run fast for its size, but its efforts were funny to you who towered over it and watched it scurry away in vain. One baby step and you were on top of it again. That's what I remember thinking. There was some giant foot prepared to crush us that laughed as we scrambled.

It's funny how, at that time, I didn't think much about my own countrymen and -women who had lost their lives already, but I thought mainly about whoever had done this to us, angry that they would dare do something like this to America.

It wasn't until the buildings fell at 10:00 at 10:30am that I became really heartbroken as the enormity of it all set in. The sight of that first building collapsing upon itself, metal and dust and glass, was a thing that I couldn't even conceive, that my mind couldn't even comprehend. Still sitting on the floor, I gasped as it fell and stared as the wave of dust and debris overtook everything for blocks and blocks around. I started crying because I knew there were many people in and around that building, and many more that had been naively, but bravely, going up the stairs at that moment. I cried because I tried to imagine the terror of how it felt to be in that building when it started to fall. I cried because I knew there were mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters in there who hadn't done anything wrong and this was a terrible way to die. I cried because I knew people all over the country who had relatives or friends or friends-of-friends in those buildings were watching this on TV and had been silently praying that their loved ones would make it out OK, and when the building collapsed those hopes were completely dashed forever in an instant.

I recall how terrible I felt after that first building had fallen, not only for the building itself and all the destruction that it brought, but because we all now knew that the same thing would probably happen to the north tower. I remember with a sinking feeling what it must have been like to be in the north tower, looking out the window and seeing the south tower crumble and collapse. Up until that point, you were probably still hopeful. I can't imagine what you must have thought when you witnessed the first tower fall then. What do you do when you know you don't have much time left? Do you sit and wait quietly? Are you calm now that you know this is how it will end?

The newscaster commented on the large amount of debris that was falling from the north tower and I remember him specifically asking the cameraman to zoom in. I don't recall exactly what he said, but I do remember that whatever it was echoed my exact sentiments when we were zoomed in far enough to realize that they were bodies falling from high on the north tower. I felt sick to my stomach and was weeping over what seemed like the whole world falling apart. Crying because many people decided that hurling yourself from 80 stories up was a better choice in that moment. The cameraman, when he realized what it was that was falling, spontaneously and haphazardly panned off of the building and up into the blue sky until they cut away. I'll probably remember that moment more than anything else. There were several minutes of silence - actual silence - on TV and I remember just sitting there weeping. I felt helpless and guilty at the same time, knowing I was not in any immediate danger myself. But I also recall feeling nervous about being in a building, being on anything other than solid ground.

It looked like the apocalypse in downtown New York. Like a filthy gray snow had fallen over everything and everyone. Zombies barely discernible as humans paced around, feet shuffling, eyes dead, clothing tattered, spots of blood peeking out from behind a thick layer of soot. Bodies lying on the sidewalk, unconscious or dead.

After a while, when I felt completely alone and couldn't take any more of it, I walked out into the hall. There were several guys doing the same thing, just seeing if there was anybody else out there. Because what do you do We sat, eyes red and blotchy, on the floor of our dorm hall, 3 feet wide and blandly painted. I don't remember any of us saying anything other than the occasional exclamation of surprise, "What in the world?!?". Then we would all shake our heads, replaying it over and over again in our heads, hoping we might wake up to realize it was some kind of Orson Welles prank.

I can't imagine the loss that so many people experienced on that day - and the days to come as many developed cancer and other health related issues. I can't fathom losing a loved one and/or friend in such a way. My heart still goes out to them today, seeing clips on TV of the memorial service as people cry and hold up pictures of those who perished on that Tuesday morning. It's all different and incredibly close to home when you see actual faces in those photographs being held high, people's smiles and suits and new haircuts.

And it involuntarily makes me think of Nagasaki and Hiroshima and question whether what we did was right. It's a sad and broken world when it might be necessary to do something that is not right.

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Awkward

9/10/2009 2:12 PM

If you haven't, be sure to check out awkwardfamilyphotos.com. Hours and hours of fun. Be sure to click on "Older Posts" at the bottom of the page to get to even more absurdity. Some will make you cringe, some might make you cry, and most will just make you laugh for joy. You're welcome.

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Back On The Horse

9/8/2009 10:43 PM

Here we go again. Kicking the blog back off. And isn't this a quality post to do just that?

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Phobia Of The Day

5/2/2009 12:36 PM

Levophobia - Fear of things to the left side of the body.

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A Few Things I've Learned

4/20/2009 1:27 PM

I was out for a run this morning, and got to thinking about a variety of things. We were in West Monroe, LA this Sunday with our friends at First Baptist. After lunch, we had lunch with the pastor and the worship leader, and the pastor said something that caught my ear. He mentioned working on a new book that will be out this summer entitled If God Were Real, the premise of which asks the question, "How would we live differently if we actually believed God were real?" It was thought-provoking, and this morning while jogging, another question popped into my head: "How would we treat other people if we actually believed God loves them?"

A few of us have been going to downtown Austin every other Thursday morning to the same park at the same time to build some relationships with some of the homeless population that stays there. Austin has a large homeless population, being a southern city with a fairly mild climate; and also because, unlike many other cities, Austin has some pretty decent homeless programs. We have been taking some food and general necessities downtown for a year and a half or so now, but only recently have we really focused in on this same group at the same park at the same time. The purpose has been to intentionally get to know some these men and women on a deeper level than just meeting their needs for one meal.

Among other things, I've learned how to listen to their stories. And what really matters in life. They have the most amazing stories you could ever imagine. Harrowing and heart-breaking at the same time. I met a guy awhile back who had gotten robbed on the street a few days before, and he literally had nothing to his name except the clothes he was currently wearing. Some have traveled thousands of miles in their lifetime, some have been in Austin for years and years. Some have accepted their lot in life, some rail against the heavens with everything they've got.

Contrast that with: I stupidly got involved in a petty discussion on Facebook a couple of weeks ago about "Is it ok for Christians to drink or not?", but all I could think about the entire time is what our friend Tony was doing that night. It was raining and he was outside under a tree in the park probably (hopefully wearing a coat we had been able to give him!), and my attempt to glorify God that evening consisted of ignoring his plight in order to debate a pointless issue. (I suppose it's not pointless, but it shouldn't be a priority, and I'm not sure it glorifies God.) While there is a man drowning in the river, we're on shore arguing about whether or not our sandals are clean.

If we really believed God loved each and every one of us - even the "least" of us, how would we act differently? I don't want to spend my time on frivolous things. I think that often, as Christians, we give ourselves a pat on the back if we're merely talking about the things of God. That's what the Pharisees did while Jesus was actually out healing people.

It boggles my mind how many times the gospels say something like: "Jesus saw the crowd and had compassion on them." Man. How often do I do that? How often do any of us do that? It's too easy to sit at the red light and hope it turns green before the guy with the cardboard sign on the corner reaches our car. I've had to change the way I think. What if that homeless guy was my dad or my brother? What if that guy was at one time married with kids and a job but circumstances shifted and left him in a tough situation? What if that guy is Job?

I have a real problem - a REAL problem - with people saying they won't give money to homeless people because they don't know what they're going to do with it. In the past year or so, I find that it really makes me upset. Because the last time I checked, we are supposed to care for those ALL of those who can't care for themselves, not just the ones we deem worthy. It is not our call to give money to only those who LOOK like they won't spend it on alcohol. It is our call to help. If we can only help with money, that is our call. I'm called to help, not to pre-judge how THEY are going to spend that money. That's their responsibility. I hope they don't buy drugs or alcohol with it - I really hope they don't - but who am I to withhold grace from them for what they MIGHT do with it. If they MIGHT buy food, I want to help. If they MIGHT buy medicine, I want to help.

I know this is so because I was given grace by One even though He knew I would constantly abuse that grace every day.

And my frustration is that if you DON'T want to give money, I can understand that, but what will you do instead? Will you take that guy over to Wendy's and buy him a burger? Will you ask him if he needs a coat and then go drive to Wal-Mart to get him one? Unfortunately, I've found that when someone says they don't like giving money to the homeless and I ask, "What will you do instead?", there is more often than not no answer. And it saddens me, because it shows me where their heart really is. And it shows me where my own heart is so often as well.

Our friend Steve is schizophrenic - he introduces himself as "Steve Smirnoff" - and, depending on whether or not he has taken his medicine, he will either stand ten feet away from us, utterly silent, or he will be very friendly and chatter on endlessly, complete stream-of-consciousness stories that are nearly impossible to follow. Nobody in this life seems to want Steve because he hasn't shaved in awhile and he is impossible to talk to. He doesn't have many possessions and the ones that he does have are in terrible condition. But what if I actually believed - and now I do - that God loves Steve? That Christ sees Him and has compassion on him? He's really no different from me. Steve is given grace every day and he screws it up every day. But Yet Christ does not give up on him, so how could I? I have no idea how I can show Christ's love to Steve so he will understand it, but until I know exactly how to do that, I know that he needs a sandwich, some water, vitamin C, a portable radio, and an ear to listen to his endless, confusing stories. We've found that most homeless people rarely look beyond today's needs (a little lesson we could all learn), and so even though I know a meal will not save his soul, it speaks volumes to him, and hopefully in the future he will listen to what will.

I desperately don't want to be a Christian who sits around talking about God. I desperately don't want to know a bunch of theology about God and then pretend to be looking for something in my glove box when a homeless guy walks by my car at a stop light. I desperately don't want to go to church on Sunday and then think I'm doing enough when I'm just not rude to the waitress at lunch. I desperately don't want to be one those people who feels misplaced pride at a video of another Christian giving their life away for the poor.

But I desperately want to feel convicted when I see others helping as I sit on the sidelines. I desperately want to know how Jesus felt when He looked at the crowds; enough to move me to action. I desperately want to reach the end of my life and look back to see more than me sitting in my nice living room discussing the merits of Calvinism. I desperately want to know how to understand that God loves all of us without exception; no matter what my clouded judgement might try to convince me of.

I've come to believe that the people who think it is hard to know God have been so sadly misled. He actively loved the poor, the sinners, the broken, the outcast. It's simple. He didn't ask them their views on dispensationalism or whether or not they believed is was OK to drink. He loved them, He saw their needs, and He met them. And, most importantly, I've learned that He didn't wait for them to come to Him.

He went out and found them.

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Help Me Name This Song!

4/1/2009 10:30 PM

Here's a demo of a new love song I was working on a few weeks ago. I need you cats to help me name it. It's gotta be something just right, and - don't worry - I've already thought of all the obvious ones.

I'm not gonna post the lyrics, cause I don't them to necessarily influence it...

Click here to listen to "Untitled (Soon To Be Titled)"

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