March 30, 2008
Tour Blog: Rhinelander — Picture Perfect
Written by Girth McDürchstein on March 30, 2008 2:11 PM
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Happy Heartland Tour -- The Midwest '08
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I’ve never seen a more beautiful vacation spot than Rhinelander, Wisconsin. I booked a gig here because, as a kid, I remember people going to Rhinelander and Door County and being blown away by the majesty and beauty of Wisconsin, a place otherwise regarded as a disgusting cesspool known primarily for beer, cheese, and the delightful glut of pornography stores along the I-94 corridor.
Plus, Hank Wooster only gave us a select few places to choose from.
The band felt a little uneasy during the ride up to Rhinelander. After all, word of our supposed antics have traveled, resulting in cancellations, protests, and other uncouth behavior. At first, we had Lacey phoning ahead not just to find out if the venue still exists but to see whether or not our gig still existed. Margo suggested maybe we were tipping our hands by asking questions like that, so we rode blind into Rhinelander, hoping for the best but fearing the worst.
The gig was at Towering Pines, a youth-oriented summer camp on the edge of Rhinelander. You might have noticed that it’s not summer, but we were promised in advance that the concert would be populated by local youth. When we arrived at Towering Pines, Lacey and I went to the main cabin to find out about accommodations (supposedly included) and when/where to set up.
The main cabin was large and divided into fourths, each containing a different section: a quarter for the mess hall, a quarter for a well-stocked rec room, a quarter for some sort of storage area, and a quarter of offices. The offices weren’t as bleak and pale as most, thanks to the charming cabin aesthetic.
A young receptionist sat behind a desk pine desk with a glaze and finished made to match the walls.
“Good morning,” I said cheerfully.
Lacey gripped my bicep, hard, her way of saying, “Let me handle this.” I removed her hand from my arm and said, “We’re the evening’s entertainment.”
The receptionist beamed at me. “Of course! You must be…” She pulled out a large scheduling book, and this was the first time I realized there wasn’t a computer anywhere to be seen in an office with six desks (all of them empty except this one). The receptionist scanned through the dates and finished, “…Michael W. Smith.”
Lacey and I swapped uneasy glances. I had the presence of mind to say, “Yes, of course. Didn’t you recognize me?” When a Michael W. Smith song popped into my head, I added, “Maybe I’m not…picture perfect.”
The receptionist giggled adorably. “You and your supporters can have cabins five and six.” She took two keys from a rack on the wall and handed them to me.
As Lacey and I walked out, I said, “I handled that pretty smoothly, didn’t I?”
“Dammit, Girth!” she said through gritted teeth. “They’re expecting Michael W. Smith.”
“Well, he obviously hasn’t shown up. If he does, who do you think they’ll believe?”
“Maybe the guy who knows how to play Michael W. Smith songs.”
“Shit!” I exclaimed. I hadn’t thought of that.
We got to the van and pulled around to the cabins. I explained on the way that we’d have to spend the rest of the day learning every single song in the Michael W. Smith catalog, starting with the hits and working our way back.
“What the fuck?!” Mikey yelled.
“Man,” Carl said, “won’t you get struck by lightning or something if the lyrics of Michael W. Smith come out of your mouth?”
“We’ll find out,” I said.
We spent a few hours Googling around for chord charts, tablatures, and lyrics. We couldn’t find much beyond the hits, so I printed them out and we got to work.
By five o’clock, we’d barely managed to learn “Picture Perfect.” The show started at seven.
“What are we gonna do?” Margo wanted to know.
“I’ll think of something,” I said. “Let’s just get this song down really good.”
We took the stage and opened with “Picture Perfect.” The youth audience seemed thrilled. The director of Towering Pines, Mitch Silver, came onto the stage, shook my hand, and took the microphone. “I’d like to thank Michael W. Smith for performing for us this evening. Before he continues, we’d like to play a short video.”
Using a giant projection screen behind the outdoor stage, erected between two massive pine trees, they played a bizarre video with haunting, Orff-like music. It made the claim that JESUS WAS MORE THAN A POLITICIAN, which I thought was kind of obvious at this point. During the video, I thought about what we’d do next. I remembered something from a Springsteen bootleg I’d once watched.
When the video ended, I came back on the mic and shouted, “You know the old saying…why play it once when you can play it twice!” We launched into “Picture Perfect” a second time, which got an even more enthusiastic response than the first performance.
So, for the next two hours, we played “Picture Perfect” about 30 times in a row. Every time, the kids went crazy. Maybe they didn’t realize it was the same song, or maybe they just really, really liked Michael W. Smith.
After the show, Mitch Silver seemed reluctant to pay us. He thought he should pay 1/30th of our agreed-upon price because we played the same thing over and over. Lacey made some suggestions that most people who play videos about Jesus don’t hear very often.
We got our money.
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