One-Man Band

If you've ever seen That Thing You Do or any Behind-the-Scenes special on VH1, you probably have some idea of what it takes to record and produce a music album: laborious hours of lyric-writing, hammering out chord progressions and lots of (expensive) time spent in the studio, playing parts over and over, until everyone in the band finally gets it right in the same take.

Tom Weismantel can attest to the toll it takes on a musician's nerves. He's in a band called Welcome to the Cinema, where recording sessions can become somewhat grueling for the 5-member ensemble. A couple years ago, however, Weismantel discovered a new means of music production that allows for more control, more creativity, and unlimited studio time.

ONE-MAN BAND NEWS PACKAGE

Weismantel has been making music for most of his life. After picking up his first trombone at the tender age of 11, he discovered a knack for learning instruments and proceeded to teach himself bass guitar, electric guitar, piano, harmonica and drums--in the quieted corner of his parents' basement, of course.

Naturally, it came time for these skills to culminate, so Weismantel grabbed a notebook and starting jotting down lyrics. It was the beginning of a lifestyle. Today, using an assortment of instruments, mics, speakers and software, Weismantel spends most of his time recording and producing under the name Hippocampus. But despite the professionalism of his finished products, the artist says he doesn't spend a lot of money making music.

Weismantel uses everything from a savvy electronic E-bow to his childhood toy xylophone to create the sounds he envisions, and says the freedom to dream up and create every aspect of a song is one of the most attractive benefits of going solo.

"I prefer to do it alone, honestly, because it's easier. You can just think of an entire song on your own. It's the best feeling in the world to sit back and listen to your song."

For now, the musical stylings of Hippocampus take a backseat to a degree in Pharmacy, a part-time job and weekly gigs with Welcome to the Cinema. But as Weismantel creates album after album, honing his craft and marketing it online, he's developing a sound that is uniquely his in every way. An afternoon in Weismantel's studio leaves you wondering: in a society where the music scene is becoming more creative and more competitive by the second, are two heads really better than one?

An Introduction to: A 21st Century Love Story

The idea of atheism finding a home in the vastly Christianized Midwest has always intrigued me; and as a reporter, it's a story idea that's been knawing at the back of my neck. I find it fascinating how adverse our society is to the idea; it's a bit like being a leper, isn't it? Be honest with yourself: would you vote for an atheist? In the Midwest, professing atheism is indeed a surefire way to keep one out of public office and away from small children.

As I've discovered (although only scratching the surface, I'm sure) this disposition is indeed distinctively ours; in Europe for example, one is prompted to defend a belief in a higher being rather than the reverse. When I was in Berlin last year with a group of Eastern European journalists, I was inwardly shocked by the number of agnostics, atheists and friends who simply couldn't be bothered to entertain any musings at all. I myself was rendered mute, wracking my brain to find a justification for this faith of mine after it had been severed from its context. “So this is why they encouraged me to surround myself with likeminded Christians,” I thought, “it’s just easier.” It had always been so easy to witness to a society where Christianity is the norm. Things one just feels—like thankfulness and humbleness—are difficult to rationally attribute to a savoir, when the relationship has always just "existed". But I digress.

Cory Heidelberger's beliefs captured my interest long before I started thinking critically about my own faith; I had been looking for a reason to pick his brain, and upon discovering his was married to a Lutheran minister, couldn’t resist asking them to star in my news story, as much for my own benefit as my GPA’s. I was wildly curious as to how a relationship as intimate and all encompassing as a marriage survives without the foundation of faith.

In the shorter video segments, you’ll hear Erin and Cory discuss some of my biggest questions at length—issues I was not able to touch on in my 1:45 minute news package. They include:
1. How did their pastor react to them wanting to get married in a church?
2. Does Cory live differently as an atheist?
3. What happens when Katarzyna starts asking the tough questions that put them in opposing corners?

I gained insight into the variety and flexibility of human relationships while shooting this piece, but more than anything I was reminded I still have so much to learn. Like me, this piece is merely scratching the surface; but I hope it encourages you to think about your relationships, their foundations, and the possibility of connecting with people you’ve never considered.

A 21st Century Love Story

When Cory Heidelberger took Erin, a future Lutheran pastor, as his wife, not everyone was happy for them.

Erin remembers a good friend sitting her down to tell her she was taking herself out of God's will by marrying Cory. Cory says he understood Erin's friend as she quoted the Bible, saying the couple was "unevenly yoked".

While Erin was called to Lutheran Ministry, Cory adopted a different worldview. As he puts it, "What we see is what we get."

As an atheist, Cory believes that our consciousness, feelings and morals are not governed by a higher being, but that they are scientific processes.

But the couple says they don't need a common faith. Erin cites chemistry, intellectual pursuits and the fact that they simply worked together well. Cory is taken back to the first time Erin caught his attention.

"When I had to stop a moment and ask her to explain what she meant...that kind of intelligent Christianity is very appealing to me."

But one welcomed challenge led to another. Her name is Katarzyna, and she's two years old.

When Erin takes Katarzyna to St. John's Lutheran Church every Sunday morning, Cory stays home. But the couple agrees that's actually the biggest challenge they've had to face.

"I want to help Erin because I want Erin to be happy," Cory explains, "But I don't want to go to church."

Mom and dad might have different answers when Katarzyna questions her own faith, but they agree on the values she'll be taught.

"Katarzyna cannot look at the world with a sense of boredom," Cory said, "I don't care which worldview she's using to look at the world, but it better be a worldview in which she is deeply and intelligently engaged."

"She needs to learn to do what she's passionate about and good at," Erin continues, "and to make the world better."

Big plans for a little girl, from two very different beliefs.

Not Your Average Newspaper

You can probably picture the typical newsroom: disheveled desks, impatient editors and countless cups of coffee. But college newsrooms are home to a whole different breed of journalism.

While you were fast asleep last night, the South Dakota State University Collegian newsroom was very much awake.

Brandon VanWesten is the editor-in-chief of the college weekly, and estimates his staff arrives around 5:00 or 6:00 p.m. and doesn't leave until 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning.

VanWesten adds that odd hours aren’t the only challenge his team faces, "They have 40 hour a week at a regular newspaper. We have about half that".

On top of overnight hours and complicated schedules, the Collegian produces a professional paper from a staff of first time journalists.

"Our reporters are all green," VanWesten explains, "and their first stories are always a little rough. Most of them are inexperienced, having just taken the courses the journalism department offers."

However, VanWesten believes the same inexperience that keeps his staff at their desks until the early hours of the morning is also the driving force in meeting that deadline.

"Reporters come here because they want to work hard and improve," VanWesten explains, "they can gain experience and be ready for the stresses of a professional paper."

VanWesten is confident that if his editors can make it through Tuesday after Tuesday of late-night layouts and sloppy copy, they'll be more than prepared for jobs after graduation.

Safety or Fairness?

In the 1970s, downtown bar districts saw a slightly younger crowd...until the national drinking age changed from 18 in 1981 to 21 in 1987. Now some are wondering if it’s time to change the law back.

It’s not unusual for South Dakota State University Police Department Officer Mike Burgard to come across underage drinking on Friday night patrols .

"For most of the incidents we come across, most of [the students] have consumed alcohol and a lot of times a fairly substantial amount of alcohol," Burgard said, "I just don't feel the maturity level in there in individuals under the age of 21."

There’s a push by a coalition of U.S. university presidents working to lower the drinking age to 18, making it legal for first and second year students at university to drink. Burgard’s chief says a lower drinking age would actually create more work for them.

"Would arrests go down? Probably not," Chief Tim Heaton said. "We'd probably just have a lot more violent crimes."

Chief Heaton believes lowering the drinking age would create safety issues on campus sidewalks. But inside the walls of an SDSU residence hall, 18-year-old Michael Holt sees things a little differently.

"I'd rather have drinking in a somewhat contained environment, then going to parties or keggers or anywhere else where there's a bunch of people," Holt said.

But Flandreau, S.D. Lawyer Bob Pesall, who is lobbying the legislature to lower the drinking age, believes safety is not the issue.

"I think fairness is more important than safety. In South Dakota, we give responsibilties to people at a younger age." Pesall thinks the age limit on alcohol should reflect that.

South Dakota lawmakers may have to decide which is more important: safety for their students, or fairness of the law.