Shane Barnard

Every once in a while you come across a disc that raises the bar of music to a higher level, one where everything you listened to before it becomes drab and everyone else no longer measures up. Rocks Won't Cry was one of those discs. I was a fan for life by the end of the first track - the superhuman strumming rhythm, perfect runs, soaring harmonies with sidekick Shane Everett, Hammond organ, thundering drums, and incredible "kinda live" feel. Psalms, the sequel, was even better, if that is possible. The prayerful songwriting became deeper, the dynamics more intense, the music tighter, and the voices still perfect.

Needless to say, when they made a rare stop to a nearby college, I was there (early enough to chat with a few crew members before sound check:).

Somehow, as much as I loved his music, I had never seen a picture of Shane. So when the two musicians walked out on stage, I automatically assumed the goofy-looking one with short curly hair and cargo pants (with a slight resemblance to Lieutenant Dan from Forest Gump) was Shane E. and the big, handsome one was Shane Barnard. Oops. As the concert progressed, I was puzzled both by his appearance and mannerisms. He didn't look like the greatest musician I've ever heard. He didn't talk as if he was great. Or act great. I would close my eyes and listen to the incredible sound, then open them to, if I can be honest, disappointment.

Lest I sound unkind, I insert that Shane was the first to laugh at his ordinary appearance. And to assert his insignificance. "I'm not the guy who sat around playing guitar in his room," Shane said. "The only reason I'm here is I did a CD as a favor for my mom and it got in the wrong hands. God gave me a girl's voice and the ability to play, and for all I know it may be gone tomorrow."

I came to meet a hero, but instead I encountered an ordinary man blessed in extraordinary ways, who was the first to claim so.

"How do you stay humble?" I asked him after the show.

"This is not me and not my doing," he answered.

He was not the only amazingly humble one out of the band. Shane Everett clearly never sought to steal the spotlight. He stood by quietly, some songs only inserting 6 or 8 bars of strumming and a harmony line. Drummer Will Hunt, with a spectacular kit of an African "snare" and toms and traditional kick and cymbals produced mabye the strongest live sound I've ever heard (being in Waite Chapel at Wake Forest may have helped a bit). During a broken string moment of silence, someone shouted "Drum Solo!"

"Amen," I thought to myself.

But he shook his head and then bowed it. The show was not about the music. Nor the musicians. Nor the phenomenal sound. It was about God's greatness and nothing else.
I came looking for a new hero and left dissapointed with the realization that I sought another false idol. There is one hero, and Shane and Shane's music is all about Him.

For more, see the Christianitytoday.com interview