This interview took place when "Room For Cream" was set to be a six-song release. Since then, four additional songs have been recorded and added to the record. I'll try to hook up with Jason again so we can discuss the final content and update this interview, but until then just keep the timing of conversation in mind. Thanks.

JG: Having known you for a few years now, I know you have a large catalog of material. How do you feel about having these particular six tunes be the recorded representation of your work?

TH: You know, that was a huge part of what I mentioned before: the need to let go and give up some control. There’s this tendency to want a CD to be the perfect representation of my work. But the reality is, no single project ever could be. With this I just had to make the decision to start somewhere, to put out this glimpse into my musical life and then keep moving on from there. Just making this first step is huge for me.

And I am pleased that I did end up with a mix of older and more recent tunes. I like what I’m writing now, but there’s still a lot of stuff from the past that I think holds up and I still enjoy doing. It’s nice to have worthy material from the past that comes from a voice I wouldn’t necessarily write with now.

JG: So tell me what eras these songs come from, and how they reflect your priorities and attitudes about writing at the time you wrote them.

TH: I just recently went through my notebooks on theses songs. It’s pretty funny, because “Unchallenged Echoes” is all about having these songs in my head and heart, and trying to figure out how to get them out to people. I sing “any day I’ll turn them loose.” I wrote that in 1989, twelve years ago! Long time coming. That song definitely comes from a younger phase of my writing, when most of it was very personal and self-reflective, which is a pretty typical way to start. That one still holds up for me because it’s a lot of fun to play, and it’s really poking fun at some of the pretentiousness I can be prone to--thinking my music will save the world and all that. It’s good to keep myself in my place, you know?

JG: Yeah, I think self deprecating humor is not only funny, but really important - especially for a writer. It’s easy to get a little egocentric.

TH: Sure. Because we earnestly hope these songs will connect with people and move them in some way. But finally we have to realize we can only do our part as well as we can, and the rest is out of our hands.

As far as the history of the other songs, “The Visitor” and “Long Shot” are from a bit later on, 1993/1994. Those were important songs as they were perhaps my first attempts at writing narrative songs. They’ve both got a short story quality to them, especially “Long Shot”, where I tried to bring in a lot of descriptive detail, to move things along with characterization and flavor, and to let the story itself carry the message. The chorus steps out of the narrative, but still doesn’t spell everything out and tie up a nice package of interpretation.

“The Visitor” has a more mythical sort of quality. I had fun putting a lot of allusion in there. Though the lyric hasn’t changed since I first completed the song, that one has been developing musically ever since, particularly in the guitar part. It’s a fun groove that opens itself up to a lot of dynamics and improvisation.

One thing about those two tunes compared to the recent ones--“Room For Cream”, “When The Phone Rings” and “Dance You A Story”--is that they took a long time to write. I really labored long and hard over the lyrics. The concept for “Long Shot” was one that I carried around for years before I finally forged the song.

In contrast, “Room For Cream” and “Dance You A Story” were each written in a day, and “When The Phone Rings” was written very quickly also. They all come from just the last few months.

I think there might be a couple of reasons that I’m writing faster now. For one thing, I’m just getting to be a better writer from experience. Things that might have required hard labor in the past now come more intuitively. I can trust my voice even more now, and my instincts tend to be true.

For instance “When The Phone Rings” I wrote as an exercise. I decided to assign myself a project of taking a very specific circumstance and seeing what came out of it. So I started with just the idea of a person waiting alone for a phone call that could have life-changing implications. I think many people have been in situations like that, whether it concerns the path of a relationship, a career crisis, or the safety of a loved one. So I just set up this situation, and trusted my instincts to make a song out of it. I still don’t quite know what the phone call might represent to the narrator, and I certainly don’t resolve the situation in the song--he or she is still waiting. I think that element of mystery is where the power of the song comes in--it still keeps it intriguing for me, I know that. In a sense, it’s about nothing more than the song itself, and yet, there is a deep resonance there that’s kind of haunting. That comes from trusting that I know how to write a song and letting the song find its own way. I don’t know that I was in a place where I could have written that song five years ago.

“Room For Cream” is kind of a companion piece to “Unchallenged Echoes”. It’s about trying to make a connection through music. But I think it reflects a different approach--not so confessional. And it shows the results of my efforts to take a more lean approach to lyrics. I sketch out the various characters in a coffee shop using a minimum of words. I remember you mentioned to me w while back that my newer material leaves more space, and I think that’s a good description of what’s happening. When the lyrics aren’t so dense, there’s more opportunity for the listener to enter in, to let the lyrics resonate, to create the scenes in their own minds.

“Dance You A Story” is a lyric that came very quickly. I just looked at the notebook on that one, and it was pretty amazing how little editing and revision that one went through. I basically wrote that one straight through. That one really feels like one of two or three lyrics that are pinnacles for me and my writing.

JG: I think my favorite line on the album is from that song: "You will fall into miracle just past the end of your rope." That's just a great line.

TH: Thanks. That’s my favorite line, too.

JG: When I revisited it in the liner notes, I saw that it's part of a larger lyric that goes: "so I'll tell what I can and I'll trust you can fill in the gaps... It will float you away to your dreams / it will cut like a knife / I'll enrage and offend you / if I get it right / I will comfort your shivering heart .... I will make you abandon all hope / you will fall into miracle just past the end of your rope ..." Does this reflect your approach to writing?

TH: I think so. That entire lyric has multiple layers of meanings for me throughout, and that’s one of them that’s in there.

The bit about filling in the blanks has to do with the fact that I try to leave space for the listeners to participate, to complete and expand the lyric in their own mind. When every song lays everything out for you, and tells you exactly what the point is, I think that’s selling the listener short, it’s depriving them of the chance to make the song theirs. When the listener gets to construct and complete the meaning for himself or herself, a deeper connection is made because of that sense of ownership and participation.

And the other thing those lines deal with is the fact that not everything in my songs is sweetness and light. It’s not shiny, happy, no-problems kind of music. I think my songs overall are very true to reporting things as a Leonard Cohen lyric says: “There is a crack in everything/ that’s how the light gets in.”

JG: That’s a great line…

TH: Or as Christ put it, “It’s not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.” Music that doesn’t acknowledge our shared brokenness is bound to be shallow and manipulative and its rewards only a kind of transitory buzz. As my wife Lori said just the other day, we don’t need to be pumped up so much as refreshed.

I’m trying to go for something deeper and more enduring. There’s a lot of hope in my songs, but it’s hard-won hope that doesn’t live in denial about the reality of our experience and about our helplessness. Because that’s the void where grace can come rushing in.

JG: Amen to that. Speaking of hope and grace, let’s address one of the spiritual components of your music. You were recently featured in Worship Leader magazine for your worship song contributions to your local church. I know this aspect of your work is separate from what we experience on "Room For Cream", but I was wondering if you wouldn't mind commenting on how it is similar/different from your more traditional singer/songwriter oriented work and what role it plays in your life as an artist?

TH: I have tried to keep those things separate. Not that I compartmentalize my life or my faith, or that the skills involved are dissimilar. But it’s just that leading corporate worship is such a precious responsibility, and I believe that in that role it is very important to avoid a performer/audience sort of dynamic. A worship service is not the performer’s show. It’s the people of God coming into his presence, and I am just there to serve them in doing that.

The dynamic is very different in a solo performance, where there is a focus on the performer--that’s part of the deal. And there I’ve got a lot more freedom in terms of material and tone. I consciously restrain myself leading worship compared to doing a concert.

Plus the audiences are very different. Leading worship I have a specifically Christian audience--that’s why we’re all there together. But my solo material is by no means focused on that same audience. I think my material has the potential to reach the same kind of audience as, say, John Gorka’s or any number of singer-songwriters out there.

But your question is a good one, and there may be more interaction between the two roles than I thought. Last summer was my most intense experience in terms of leading worship. And the role really demands that I try to make a connection with the people. It’s not to draw attention to myself, but it’s to help the words we say and sing connect with them, assisting them in giving expression to their hearts.

JG: Sometimes--and I think you know what I mean here--I think that many singer/songwriters can start to thinking it’s all about them - and then it’s not long until their work starts losing its humanity and becomes little more than amusing wordplay. But I really appreciated how - at that songwriters retreat we were at last year - Pierce Pettis told the attendees that it has to about the song, you have to serve the song. And to me, if I’m serving the song, I’m ultimately serving the people who the song is written for - and as the importance of human connection increases, the more the veneration of ego diminishes…hopefully…

TH: I’ve certainly done my share of clever wordplay, of trying to impress people with my writing skills. But with the songs I consider my best--like ”Dance You A Story” and “We Rememer”--I find myself humbled by them more than anything, like I’m just so thankful to be able to sing them. Almost as if I find my connection to the song in the same way a listener would.

And that is a factor I think I had previously undervalued in my solo performances: making a connection with the listeners. The context is different from a worship service, obviously, but there still is that need to make contact. I think that leading worship may have played a big role in the way I’m approaching my solo material now.

JG: Can we expect to see a collection of worship songs in the future?

TH: Believe it or not, given my track record, I do hope to be a prolific recording artist. And getting some of my worship music recorded is a very real goal. I would like to be able to disseminate it further, as there has been interest beyond my own congregation. I can’t give any time frame, but it’s certainly a project on the agenda.

JG: I love the songs of "Room For Cream", but I noticed conspicuous absences of such crowd favorites as "My New Baby" as well as others. Was this by design? Can we expect these to be released in the future?

TH: “My New Baby” is definitely one slated for the next release, a bunch of which is already complete or very far along. One of the struggles I had is that I had difficulty finding a tone for the project that was coherent. There were a lot of tunes that were definitely on the list, and others that I thought of including. But I was having a hard time making them fit together. One of the nice things about getting the “Room For Cream” CD done is that it gets some of those tunes out there, and frees the next project up to be more consistent in tone.

I noticed that a lot of the tunes I wanted to include dealt in one way or another with family. With “Room For Cream” done I can take that further and make that the theme of the entire second project. So as of now, the tunes that would be on the next project would include:

Her Song
Father’s Day Eve
My New Baby
She Covered Us
I Remember Angels
Carry The World In Your Heart
Wait For The Morning

and then probably three others, ten in all. I’m looking forward to it. I think having this project done will help give me some insights which will help me finish off the other one fairly quickly. I’m glad though, that I feel less pressure to rush it through. There will be more production on at least several of the tunes on the next one--additional guitars (acoustic and electric), mandolin, accordion, keyboards, percussion. I’ll be playing most everything myself, with maybe one or two exceptions. Musically there are a lot of influences that show up--folk, jazz, Brazilian, bluegrass, reggae, maybe even some ambient electric guitar loops. Should be a lot of fun.

JG: That's quite a broad range of music styles. We've talked about the lyrical aspect of your work, I suppose it's a good time to ask you about what your musical goals are stylistically - both in general and in "Room For Cream" in particular.

I guess I’m going for a coherent eclecticism.

JG: I like that.

TH: It probably wouldn’t help anyone know where to file my CD, but it’s got to beat incoherent rigidity, I would think.

My interests and influences are broad, and anything is fair game as far as I’m concerned. But at the same time, I’m not looking to accurately replicate any particular style of music, disconnedly jumping from one re-creation to another. I want to put a lot of elements together into something that in the end is just good music, and sings with its own voice, and dances to its own groove.

Some of my favorite guitarists are people like Pierre Bensusan, Bill Frisell and Dean Magraw who you can’t really pin down in any particular genre or style. They just play music the way they hear it, and don’t really care what anyone calls it.

But I think a lot of what I do on guitar isn’t particularly influenced by other guitarists. A lot of times I’m trying to hint at the kind of vibe a band would create, especially the drums and percussion. You can hear that aspect of my playing on “Room For Cream” and “The Visitor”.

I’m also trying to incorporate more improvisation into my playing. I’m a jazzer from way back, but at the point in the mid-90’s when I really began to concentrate on the singer/songwriter thing, I kind of set that aside, and got pretty strict with myself as far as what the guitar parts had to be. But more lately I’m trying to incorporate all my influences and take more chances in performance. It feels more whole to me when I do that. And I think it helps create a special space in each performance; each time it’s a unique happening that I can share with the audience, and I think they can feel that and enter in more fully.

JG: When we were in a songwriting session a couple weeks ago, you told me the story of why you dedicated this recording in memory of your friend Karen Butenhoff. It was a touching story and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind sharing it for those who are reading.

TH: Karen was an artist herself--she did photography, poetry, painting, and some really beautiful multi-media work that combined many disciplines. She was also a big supporter of my musical efforts, both in an instrumental group I had called Awake My Heart and my solo stuff. She always had an encouraging word, and what she said always gave me a lift and helped me believe in what I was doing, especially when I was frustrated and discouraged.

Karen got cancer, and struggled with that for many months before she died. During that time she showed such courage, good humor, and especially trust in God. She would send out e-mail updates to a big list of people, and those of us who received them found ourselves strengthened by the witness she gave there. She truly placed herself in God’s hands. She was honest about her doubts and trials, but also honest about her comfort.

Her funeral service was one of the most profound worship experiences I have ever had. She had touched so many lives. It was a celebration of the gift God gave through her, and the gift of eternity which she was now enjoying.

As the months have passed, I have continued to find myself moved by her witness. I find that the encouragement she gave stays with me and motivates me.

And I think it really came to my attention that time is short, and if I’m going to express something with the gifts I’ve been given, I should do it. Karen was my age--her birthday is the day after mine--and I really felt a connection there, and a sense of my own mortality. It was as if she had run her part of the course well, and I needed to take notice and move forward with mine.

I had thought of making the dedication some time back, when the first release would have been of a different nature. When the current project was shaping up, I wondered if it were the right one. But I could hear her encouragement and knew that she would be right there telling me that it was important to take that first step, even if it were not quite what I had originally envisioned. So this project is dedicated to her memory, in thanks to God for what he worked in my life and so many others through Karen.

JG: I happened to be talking to my mom last night and it came up how so many recordings, books, etc. are dedicated to people who have died, and she joked about how it’s too bad you have to wait until your dead to get something dedicated to you. And though I understand that sentiment, we talked about how appropriate it is, too, and how it’s a central tenet of Christian doctrine - “unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.” Karen’s life sounds like just such a kernel in your life.

TH: She was a great encouragement while she was still alive. But facing death in the way she did was a very powerful testimony to God’s promise that his strength is made perfect in our weakness.

But I think your mom is right in pointing out that we also need to acknowledge the help of those who are still with us. One of the drawbacks of being a solo artist is the creative isolation. I write my own material, perform it by myself, record it myself--I’m pretty self-contained. And that leaves me without the kind of immediately sustaining community that one can experience in a band situation. So encouragement from outside is so nourishing, especially specific encouragement that speaks directly to the particular artistic choices, triumphs, struggles and failures that I’m facing. Karen was that kind of voice for me, and still is--I think that’s part of the communion of saints we confess. But I’m blessed with others who sustain me--my wife Lori, especially. And I’ve so much appreciated your support, as well as that of many other people. For various reasons, logistics being a huge one, I’ll probably mostly keep doing the solo thing for the immediate future, so keeping that support system in place is so important to me. The dedication is a testament to how much that means to me.

JG: Well, I suppose we’d better wrap up, but I feel like I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask that question that so many writers like to ask other writers: Who are you listening to and who have been some of the major musical influences in your life and why?

TH: Let’s see, lately there are a few discs that have really hit me as special. I’m really enjoying a CD from Richard Bona called “Scenes From My Life.” He’s a bassist, vocalist and songwriter from Cameroon, West Africa. He’s astonishingly fluid as a bass player, but this project is about the songs. He’s plays guitar and percussion besides bass on this, and sings in a wonderfully pure and inviting voice. It’s an infectious, joyful, beautiful album.

I’ve also been listening to a lot of Joe Zawinul. He was the keyboard player with Weather Report, a band that influenced me a lot. Lately he’s been using a lot of global rhythms, in fact his music is really about bringing the peoples of the world together. I love the grooves he’s working with lately.

I got Ralph Towner’s new solo guitar CD “Anthem” and it’s amazing how good he is. He’s a guy I haven’t listened to a lot, but I’ll have to go back to--another guitarist who’s nearly impossible to classify--it’s just very good music.

I’ve been very moved recently by Charles Lloyd’s “Canto”. It’s a standard jazz quartet instrumentation--sax, piano, bass, drums--but the music really is transcendent. It’s one of those special projects where something very special happened and was documented. Very refreshing to my spirit.

Another project with a similar effect is "Casa Corazon" by the Mili Bermejo Quartet Nuevo, a beautiful Mexican folk song jazz project.

I just got Leni Stern’s “Black Guitar” and want to get more of her newer stuff where she’s doing vocals. She’s got a very unique and wonderful thing going bringing jazz and vocal songs together--another one that’s hard to define. And she’s got about the sweetest touch on electric guitar that I’ve ever heard.

I guess I’m finding that beauty in music touches me more and more deeply as I get older, I’m finding spiritual nourishment at a level I didn’t before.

I also should mention how incredible John Hiatt’s latest “Crossing Muddy Waters” is. He can do so much with such simple elements.

JG: Like the chorus where he just sings, “what do we do now? / what do we do now? / what do we do now? / what do we do now?”

TH: Exactly. And it really works. That’s a powerful, powerful album--truly a prime example of what can be done with great songs and gut level playing and singing.

JG: I love the line, “gimme back my steel / gimme back my nerve / gimme back my youth for the dead man’s curve”.

TH: He’s a master. And the production is so elemental, but so perfect. Why can’t we hear more things like that? Do we really need all this gloss and polish? That CD is like, “Listen up! This is the real stuff!”

As far as major musical influences, there’s so much music I’ve loved, but maybe I can pick a few people out.

One that might be easy to overlook is a man named Charles Luedtke, who was our church organist from the time I was born until I was probably twenty. He was a masterful musician, very much of the old school--Bach was his mainstay, I think. I don’t know exactly where his influence might show up in my music--but to hear that music played well every week over such an extended period of time, I’m sure that laid a ground work of quality and well-grounded music appreciation that stays with me.

Another huge influence on me is Gene Adams. Gene is a trumpet player who was one of the major movers behind the Jazz Workshops I was involved in pretty much all through the 1980s. These were part of the Minneapolis park system. We’d meet every week at a park building and play jazz. We’d play with whoever showed up. Gene was especially encouraging to young people who came, and I imagine I was 15 or 16 when I started. Everyone got a chance to play, every one got a chance to solo, even when we did performances. And when I started, I really had very little idea what I was doing. But Gene always found a way to help everyone make a unique contribution, using whatever technique and background they brought to the table, and that was a huge boost to a kid like me. I spent my Saturday afternoons all through high school playing with a bunch of jazz musicians of different ages, races, genders, and skill levels, and really found a sense of community. I think I felt more at home there than I would with a bunch of my peers. Over time I got better at what I was doing and found my own voice. I always enjoyed playing with Gene because I really became quite familiar with how he approached music, and I could be very responsive to what he was doing. He also had a very broad and open attitude music in terms of styles and sounds and approaches. He was not afraid to take a whole stage full of players--sometimes there were probably fifteen or more of us--into completely uncharted waters, to just make music unique to that group of people in that moment. To this day, I think spontaneously creating new, surprising and coherent music with a group of like-minded players is one of the most exhilarating and satisfying experiences I know.

Dean Magraw, a world-class guitar player who lives here in the Twin Cities continues to be an important influence. Every time I get a chance to hear him he inspires me as a guitarist--just giving a sense of what’s possible--and quite a lot seems possible for him, he’s a phenomenal player. But one thing that particularly gets to me is that with Dean what comes across mostly is his excitement playing music. The joy he brings to music is very nourishing and refreshing for my spirit. Seeing him play always leaves me inspired to play some new music myself.

About a year ago I had a pretty profound experience watching Sarah Masen play in a songwriting workshop I attended. It was just her and her guitar, and for me it was almost magical. The incredible poetry of her lyrics, her very personal vocal approach--it just really hit me with the incredible power of song--how much is really possible for a solo singer-songwriter. I like all her CDs, her latest “The Dreamlife of Angels” is especially good. But that experience of hearing her up close and personal really changed my perspective, and has had a big impact on me this last year.

There have been so many musicians who have meant a lot to me. I guess I don’t see it so much as having influenced me in terms of me trying to emulate them as much as certain musicians playing music that resonates more strongly with my own internal musical voice. It’s like they reinforce how I hear things, and set a standard for me to shoot for in terms of expressing that voice.

Jack DeJohnette is a prime example of that. He’s my favorite drummer, and probably my favorite musician, period. Something in me really responds to how he plays around with time and how his creativity is just so profoundly musical. I think I think of music primarily in rhythmic terms, and I really love listening to drummers. While others were listening to AC/DC, my cathartic high-school music was listening to Elvin Jones crashing and rumbling behind John Coltrane. I also particularly love the things Joey Baron played with Bill Frisell--very playful, swinging very hard in a wonderfully off kilter way.

I could go on and on here--I’ll just name some names. Thelonious Monk, Miles Davis, Frisell, John Scofield, Wes Montgomery, Jim Hall, Pat Metheny. Ronald Shannon Jackson’s Decoding Society was a band I really got into. Charlie Peacock is an influence vocally.

As far as songwriters, some that I think are especially good are Rick Elias, Billy Crockett and Milton Brasher-Cunningham, John Hiatt, John Gorka, Bob Bennett, Sarah Masen and Mark Heard.

I think in the future, the challenge I’m facing is to keep finding ways to integrate these two rather disparate aspects of my musical personality--the instrumentally-oriented side and the songwriter thing--together into a unified voice. I’m feeling like there’s a lot simmering underneath the surface, and I also think it will only really come out with a bunch of live performance. So I’m hoping for some exciting times ahead.

JG: Sounds like you’ve got a lot more music to get out. I hope this project is the first of many!

TH: You and me both.