RUSTLER'S RHAPSODY. Singer/songwriter Michael Martin Murphey relates one of his many stories about cowboys during his performance in the Benson. One of the highlights of the three hour show came at the end as he told a poem about western life. - Photo by Wayne Westerholm. Murphey's law: If it ain't broke, don't fix it As eager audience filled the Benson Auditorium last night to hear the sweet rhythms of country and western music played by Michael Martin Murphey. In Murphey's second performance at Harding in the past year, he captivated his fans with a variety of contemporary country music from his latest album "Land of Enchantment." He finished off his concert with a beautifully harmonized rendition of "Wildfire" and a preview at his upcoming album (due out in March 1990). Murphey said he has waited many years to do a traditional album such as the one he will release in March. "Western songs appeal to a wider audience," claimed Murphey. "People like the image of a cowboy and don't relate it as much to being a redneck. People feel something about the West inside themselves. I'm excited about the album because I'm close to those songs. I started off singing those songs." Another high point to yesterday's concert was the appearance of Harding sophomore Todd Cook who played the fiddle along with Murphey and his band. Cook, a music major from Russellville, Ark., said he was thankful for such an opportunity. " I was thinking backstage after it happened and everybody was clapping that I'm thankful that I was able to do that," said Cook. When asked about how his music reflects his image, Murphey said he felt that "it's unfortunate that country music has a reputation and image associated with alcoholism, divorce,depression, and being down. I think we need more songs that are positive and make people feel good about themselves and their families and the land ." " It's always easier to put out a honky-tonk song that tells everybody to party and get drunk and drown their sorrows. "It's always easy to sell a record that appeals to the worst in people. They'll rise up to the occasion every time, " Murphey said. -Jill Jordan AERho to take overKWCK for fund-raiser The Backwash "Nothing ever tastes the same the second time around" Harding's chapter of Alpha Epsilon Rho, a Mass Communications honor society, will have the opportunity to borrow a radio station this spring. Ryan Gibbons and Scott Fossey are two of the students who will take over "QUICK" (KWCK 99.3 FM) of Searcy for a few days this spring to showcase their airing skills. Not only will the adventure be a good experience but it will also raise mon - ey for the society this spring. The students will have to cut deals with companies to " air their commercials through us for a good price to the audience, of which a large percentage is composed of teens - an excellent market to tap!" says Gibbons. All spots, or aired commercials, will be written and produced by the students themselves, with profits for the days of airtime going to AEP directly. The money will be utilized in yet another expedition - this time to the National Convention of AEP in Orlando, Fla. There they will compete in a contest of chapters. Especially exciting is the attendance of influential people. Says Gibbons, "There will be a lot of "bigwigs" who are not only good to learn from, but are also important to impress. They may be future prospects for jobs, if they like what you have." Already in their third chartered year, AEP looks to be a very promising well of talents to tap. -Mark Hodges by Mark Beshirs My companions stared at me as I got up to leave. I took three steps from the table, paused, looked out the window, returned to the table and said, "I gotta go now. I gotta leave." Then I rushed out of the student center to pursue the vision of beauty that I had been watching for a couple of weeks or so. "What is her name?" I wondered as I bolted outside into the afternoon warmth. I followed her for 10 minutes or so. I followed her behind the Olen Hendrix Building, in front of the library (the old, non-functioning one), past the Administration Building, and watched as she vanished into the American Studies Building which brought my predacious surveillance to to a far-tooabrupt conclusion. For anyone watching, it must have been evident what I was doing. Oh, but I can't help myself. The girl is beauty. She was a beauty adetermined by a complex equation. A beauty who can boast perfection in each detail is boring. It's like one of those snap-together models we boys used to get when we we were six. Do you remember those? Whether it was a car or a World War II fighter, it always came out perfect. There was no question about it. Perfection. It was pre-colored, pre-fabricated, and all you had to do was snap it together without glue and stick it on its ready-made stand. But then we graduated, boys. We got our first B-52 bomber. The pieture on the box showed a glorious silver ghost, bristling with gun turrets, "Die Adolf" slogans, and a vicious, exhilarating shark's mouth on the nose. Each tiny rivet was discernible. It even came with little men that fit in the cockpit, ready for conflict. You laid out your first tube of modeling glue. You stole your mom's toothpicks and spread out the evening news on your desk. With intensity you pulled the paints and paintbrushes from the crisp, brown sack that the man at the hobby shop had carefully placed the commodities. And when you were finished, you had this thing that looked nothing like the airworthy craft on the box. So what? So what if there were places where the glue oozed pleasantly between the cracks? So what if there were pieces left over? So what if the American flag tilted drastically? You have a constitutional right to tilt your flag. So what if you accidentally turned the shark mouth upside-down and ended up looking more like a Cheshire cat than an instrument of terror and cruel punishment? So what? This was your first model and it was beautiful. You pulled the fishing line out of your father's tackle box and hung that mean machine from the ceiling. Of course, your mother came in and told you that you had to hang it in your bedroom and not in the living room. But you could live with that. It was truly beautiful. Those snaptogether/slap-together pieces of plastic deserved to be earthbound on their cheesy, plastic stands, but your B-52 was made to be airborne. It was everything it needed to be, and more. It was your personal vi - sion of what a terrifying tool of death should look like. You probably don't remember when you threw those snap-together models away, but I guarantee you can remember finding it in the attic years later when you were in high school. You looked at it and grinned that same silly smile that is on your first driver's license. You looked at the peeling decals, the flaking paint, and you thought, however fleetingly, about hanging it back up. In the cockpit sit two men - forever in conflict, and forever your secret pals. The beauty of that B-52 is eternal because it possesses a spirit of personal beauty and genuine uniqueness that is as human as you or I. So, this girl that I am hopelessly pining over is a living prodigy of this spirit. She ranks with the most conspicuous beauty, but what's more, her spirit gives her a memorable quality that screeches far past momentary lust and embeds itself in your memory securing for itself a place of tenderness and quiet reminiscence. Oh, I'll probably never meet her, but so what? I'm grinning big and silly when I look at her hanging from my mind's ceiling, and I'll laugh with pure joy when I find her in all her beauty in my attic years from now while casually reviewing these words. The Bison 35
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