MUSIC AND RELIGION Heaven and Hell

"Day of Judgement, God is Calling"

-"War Pigs" (1970)

Nowhere is the association between religion and popular music (both positive and negative) more obvious than in the many permutations of "heavy metal." Often stereotyped as satanic and subversive, the myriad ways in which metal musicians have dealt with the theme of religion is complex and diverse, encompassing elements of parody, polemic, and piety. 

One need look no further than the names of some of the major metal bands of the past 30 years to recognize that there is something going on with "religion": Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, Angel Witch, Grim Reaper, Witchfinder General, Dark Angel, Death Angel, Exodus, Metal Church, Possessed, Sacrifice, Testament, Sabbat, Atheist, Deicide, Malevolent Creation, Morbid Angel, Dark Funeral, Mercyful Fate, Mystic Circle, Rotting Christ, Anathema, Candlemass, Samael, St Vitus, Paradise Lost, Within Temptation, Armored Saint, Dio, Kreator, Sodom, Impaled Nazarene, Dr Sin, Sepultura, Benediction, Avenged Sevenfold, Byzantine, Lamb of God, Trivium, Faith No More...to name but a few! Many of these monikers obviously evoke religious imagery, although through a decidedly darkened lens. 

With band names such as these it's not surprising that in the mid-1980s metal music was swept up in a wave of American censorship led by Tipper Gore, wife of then US Senator Al Gore, who spear-headed the Parents' Music Resource Center. The organization claimed that heavy metal (and rap for that matter) undermined American moral values. The music was said to promote rebellion, violence, sexual promiscuity, and (of course) Satanism (Walser 1993: 138-139). This hysteria, fed in turn by the American talk-show circuit of the time, led to a great deal of public and private anxiety about this new and poorly understood musical genre. 

What is it about metal that has been the cause of such concern? Other musical genres have promoted sexuality and rebellion. The use of drugs by artists is as old as art itself. To be sure, the images and personae adopted by the bands have been provocative, as has their often controversial album artwork. Moreover, much has been made of metal's use of the "tritone," the so-called diabolus in musica--a diminished 5th that can evoke feelings of doom and dread. Yet, none of these things in of themselves fully explains the degree of denigration the genre has received. It does seem as though the manner in which metal has engaged with religious themes, frequently in surprising and disturbing ways, leads some observers to a deeper level of anxiety. In a certain sense, metal shines a light into the darkest corners of human experience and what is uncovered can be uncomfortable.

IN THE BEGINNING...

Most commentators would situate the genesis of heavy metal with one British band--Black Sabbath (Sharpe-Young 2007: 12). As their very name suggests, this is a group that would appear to lean toward the darker spiritual arts. Their lyrics have been said to use "anti-Christian and quasi-religious imagery" (Cope 2010: 28) and to be driven by an interest in the occult philosophy of Crowley and the Satanism of LaVey (Cope 2010: 83-88). Such a reading would appear to be supported by the lyrics of "N.I.B" from the band's 1970 debut Black Sabbath:

Now I have you with me, under my power

Our love grows stronger now with every hour

Look into my eyes, you will see who I am

my name is Lucifer, please take my hand

Yet, as is so often the cause, the authorial voice is mistaken for the author. The song is sung from the perspective of one seducing the soul. It is an artistic conceit, not an equation of the singer with Satan. We can no more attribute the sentiments of the song to the band than we could those of Mephistopheles to Goethe. Other songs, such as "Lord of This World", also deal with the rejection of God:

Your world was made for you by someone above

But you chose evil ways instead of love

You made me master of the world where you exist

The soul I took from you was not even missed yeah

Lord of this world

Evil possessor

Lord of this world

He's your confessor now

Even when Sabbath is more overtly political, religious imagery creeps in to the mix, as it does in many of the band's successors. Such is the case with "War Pigs" from 1970's Paranoid, which presents its anti-war message in evocatively religious terms, equating the war-mongering generals with "witches at black masses":

Generals gathered in their masses,

just like witches at black masses.

Evil minds that plot destruction,

sorcerer of death's construction.

In the fields the bodies burning,

as the war machine keeps turning.

Death and hatred to mankind,

poisoning their brainwashed minds...Oh lord yeah!

Such statements seem far from an outright endorsement of the occult. Rather, it's an unmasking of the uncomfortable fact that those who often claim to be doing "good" are actually engaged in profound forms of "evil." Moreover, the "satanic" reputation of Sabbath is flatly contradicted by "After Forever" from Master of Reality (1971), which sounds very much like an endorsement of a Christian perspective: 

Have you ever thought about your soul - can it be saved?

Or perhaps you think that when you're dead 

you just stay in your grave

Is God just a thought within your head or is he a part of you?

Is Christ just a name that you read 

in a book when you were in school?

Could it be you're afraid of what your friends might say

If they knew you believe in God above?

They should realize before they criticize

that God is the only way to love

Again, it's hard to know to what degree this may or may not reflect the sentiments of the band itself. What is clear is that Sabbath songs see the world as "run by forces beyond our control" (Christiansen in Irwin 2010: 153), spiritual and/or political. Yet academic attempts to reduce the band's lyrical message to an expression of Marxism unjustly minimize the spiritual import (see Christiansen in Irwin 2010). Sabbath's world is one in which the forces of good and evil collide. Singer Ozzy Osborne, who happens to be a member of the Church of England, frequently appears with his signature crucifix. Not, it seems to me, to mock or even critique Christianity, but to situate himself as a Christian immersed in the dark realities of "this world"--a world so often seen as defective and disturbing. 

We see a similar trend in later solo releases from Ozzy Osbourne, such as "Mr. Crowley," which examines the life of the famous English occultist Aleister Crowley in a decidedly ironic tone: 

Your life style to me seemed so tragic

With the thrill of it all

You fooled all the people with magic

Yeah, you waited on Satan's call

Not quite an endorsement of the mage's legacy. In fact, as Walser explains: "Osbourne plays with signs of the supernatural because they evoke a power and mystery that is highly attractive to many fans, but his song offers an experience of those qualities and even a critique, not a literal endorsement of magical practices" (Walser 1993: 148). As Ozzy himself has been at pains to remind his audience, he sees himself as an entertainer, someone who uses dark imagery much like Stephen King or Vincent Price--to entertain, not necessarily to enlighten. 

Yet, as counter-intuitive as it may seem, given how strong the satanic stereotype has been, the basic lyrical outlook of many Sabbath songs (and I would say many metal songs more generally) is basically toward acknowledging the reality of evil and starring it in the face. This outlook is even re-enforced by the imagery of the album cover for 1973's Sabbath Bloody Sabbath.

Here the central figure appears besieged by demonic presences in a scene not unlike the "Temptation of Saint Anthony" frequently depicted in traditional Christian art. Deliberate or not, the resemblance is nonetheless striking and underlines the fact that so-called "popular" genres of music (like metal) are no less engaged with the classical traditions of western civilization than other "high art" forms. 

"Temptation of Saint Anthony"

-Salvator Rosa (17th cent.)

THE METAL YEARS

"What do you mean, 'I don't believe in God'?

I talk to him everyday."

--Megadeth, "Peace Sells"

In 1988, a documentary was released called The Decline of Western Civilization Part II: The Metal Years, which profiled the prominent heavy metal culture of the time. Riding to widespread popularity on the so-called New Wave of British Heavy Metal (NWOBHM), as well as emergent sub-genres like "thrash" and "death" metal, by the late 1980's the genre was arguable one of the most popular in the world. Its legions of fans were committed to a strong sense of individualism and non-conformity (Arnett 1995: 126) Many bands from this second generation were deeply influenced by Black Sabbath and were no less interested in exploring religious themes--again in surprising and controversial ways. 

Take Iron Maiden, for instance, one of the most popular and enduring metal bands of all time. Formed in 1975, the British group's first album Iron Maiden (1980) established a punk-infused heavy metal template. The band also set a much higher lyrical standard than from what had come before. One of these early songs, "Strange World", evokes the typical sense of cosmic alienation already described:

The only place where you can dream, 

living here is not what it seems.

Ship of white light in the sky, 

nobody there to reason why.

Here I am, I'm not really there, 

smiling faces ever so rare.

A let's walk in deepest space, 

living here just isn't the place.

The band's second album Killers (1981), continued in a similar vein, but with slightly more overt religious references, as witnessed by songs such as "Prodigal Son" and "Purgatory." Yet it is only with 1982's breakthrough album Number of the Beast that Maiden truly inherited the mantel previously carried by Sabbath...and the controversy. Here we have songs such as "Children of the Damned," "Total Eclipse" (originally a B-side), and most controversially "Number of the Beast":

I left alone, my mind was blank.

I needed time to think, to get the memories from my mind.

What did I see? Can I believe that 

what I saw that night was real and not just fantasy?

Just what I saw in my old dreams

Were they reflections of my warped mind staring back at me?

'Cause in my dreams it's always there

The evil face that twists my mind and brings me to despair

Bassist and principal songwriter Steve Harris has repeatedly claimed that the song was based upon either a dream or even the Robert Burns poem "Tam O Shanter". Yet, once again, an overly literal reading of the song led many to simplistically assume that the lyrics were an indication of the band's dark sympathies. Presumably, these critics didn't listen to the album's final track, "Hallowed Be Thy Name" about a prisoner waiting for the gallows:

As the guards march me out to the courtyard

Someone calls from a cell "God be with you"

If there's a God then why has he let me go?

As I walk all my life drifts before me

And though the end is near I'm not sorry

Catch my soul 'cause it's willing to fly away

Mark my words believe my soul lives on

Don't worry now that I have gone

I've gone beyond to seek the truth

Here the sense of spiritual questioning is front and centre and like many Maiden songs it is essentially a period piece. In fact, most of the band's compositions deal with some literary or historical subject, in which religion sometimes plays a role. As such, subsequent albums, like Piece of Mind (1983), would contain "Revelations" and an epic metalization of Coleridge's "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" (from 1984's Powerslave), itself a profound meditation on life and death:

The Mariner's bound to tell of his story

To tell his tale wherever he goes

To teach God's word by his own example

That we must love all things that God made.

Maiden's spiritual speculation would reach its apex in 1988 with the release of the ambitious concept album Seventh Son of a Seventh Son,* a story about a divinely gifted child who must choose to use his power for good or evil. Book-ending songs such as "The Evil That Men Do", "The Prophecy", and "The Clairvoyant" is a short acoustic madrigal: 

Seven deadly sins

Seven ways to win

Seven holy paths to hell

And your trip begins

Seven downward slopes

Seven bloodied hopes

Seven are your burning fires,

Seven your desires...

Maiden's more recent catalogue has included tracks such as "The Fallen Angel," "Out of a Silent Planet," "Montseur," "Dance of Death," "For the Greater Good of God," and "Lord of Light." 

Other bands from the time (inspired by both Sabbath and Maiden) charted a similar course, such as Metallica and Megadeth, two champions of the American thrash metal scene. James Hetfield, singer and guitarist for Metallica, was raised by Christian Scientists, and explored religious themes on songs such as "Creeping Death", an energetic retelling of the Exodus story:

So let it be written

So let it be done

I'm sent here by the chosen one

So let it be written

So let it be done

To kill the first born pharaoh son

I'm creeping death

Similarly, Megadeth, fronted by Dave Mustaine (an early member of Metallica and born again Christian), has dealt with the issue of religion in songs such as "Holy Wars...the Punishment Due".

Brother will kill brother

Spilling blood across the land

Killing for religion

Something I don't understand

Fools like me who cross the sea

And come to foreign lands

Ask the sheep for their beliefs

Do you kill on God's command?

Although far from an exhaustive treatment, it at least seems clear that throughout the various permutations of metal as a genre the issue of religion has been a preferred lyrical theme. What defies the common stereotype, however, is the fact that metal's engagement with religion isn't exclusively negative. Often it is quite positive, particularly among some of its most prominent artists. 

ANGELS IN A DARK UNIVERSE

When Ozzy Osbourne left Black Sabbath at the end of the 1970's, the singer was replaced by Ronnie James Dio (whose stage-name incidentally means "God" in Italian). True to form, Sabbath continued with similar lyrical themes, releasing Heaven and Hell in 1980. No fan of organized religion, Dio, in a later interview, explained his view that "heaven and hell is right here, this is where we are. Good and evil, God and the devil reside in each one of us." Such a philosophy fits very well with metal's overall spiritual ethos, namely, that human life and experience is the site of a perennial "Manichaean" conflict between opposing forces of light and darkness. It just so happens that many of the genre's musicians have exhibited a profound fascination with the darker side of that equation, some fanatically so, as in the case of certain founders of 1990's Norwegian "black" metal, who took their satanism far beyond parody and protest to extremes that included church burnings, white supremacism, and even murder. 

One might even say that metal bands have explored their own brand of "negative theology" (a tradition of highlighting what God is by focusing on what God isn't). Could it be that they immerse themselves in the darkness as a way to find the light? This reading is potentially and powerfully evoked in a 2009 documentary on the black metal scene called Until the Light Takes Us. Here, a member of the scene is described in remarkably revealing terms: 

"I think for me Frost is like a dark angel. 

I think he has this enormous poetic quality of him. 

And also because he's really lost. 

And he's like an angel lost in a dark universe." 

It may be that this is how many of the musicians feel, like angels lost in a dark universe. Surrounded by chaos, war, suffering, hypocrisy, addiction, abuse...something feels amiss. The cosmos is not as it should be. Perhaps the gods have failed, or are not gods at all. As such, they rail against organized religion, which itself can be a source of evil and so often seems to sanction or even cause the violence and chaos of the world. Or perhaps some have no motive at all and nihilistically want to "watch the world burn." Either way, they will not abide the status quo and seek to undermine and invert traditional norms which no longer seem of value.

PARODY, POLEMIC, PIETY

I would say that the use of dark religious imagery in metal can be divided into three general categories: parody, polemic, and piety. Parody in the sense that many of the early metal and hard rock artists used such tropes for their shock and entertainment value (as in the case of Black Sabbath, Alice Cooper, or arguably even Venom). Something fans have readily acknowledged (Arnett 1995: 127). As time went on and metal artists began to engage in political and social critique, religion was a frequent object of their polemic. Finally, piety in the sense that, as we have seen, some metal bands have sought to incorporate positive spiritual themes, but also in the sense that others at the more extreme fringe believe (or at least claim to believe) their own satanic message. 

Ironically, this dark spirituality is usually expressed within a uniquely Christian framework and in parameters defined by traditional Christianity. It exists in a world of good and evil, God and Satan, inhabited by angels and demons. In fact, one might say that it is an inversion of Christianity (exemplified by the infamous inverted cross) and is an "appropriation" often motivated by a protest against established religion (Weinstein 2000: 238). We can also see this on a more specific level. A number of early black metal bands took on names inspired by the evil characters and motifs from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings (such as Amon Amarth, Cirith Ungol, Uruk-Hai, Burzum, or Gorgoroth). Once again, there's a certain irony in the fact that those engaged in some of the most violent modern polemic against Christianity wrapped themselves in monikers drawn from the work of an author who has himself a deeply committed Christian. 

Aside from the religious motives of the artists themselves, which can never be known in an absolute sense, the fans certainly seem to regard them with a degree of religious enthusiasm, a phenomenon not uncommon across genres of popular music. The sense of communal identity, shared experience, and exhalation all contribute to the spiritual power of the metal concert, itself a kind of "hierophany" (Weinstein 2000: 231-232). In the end, this is perhaps the true "religious" importance of the music. 

*To be dealt with more extensively in a future post.

Works Cited

Andrew Cope, Black Sabbath and the Rise of Heavy Metal Music (Surrey: Ashgate, 2010). 

William Irwin, ed., Black Sabbath and Philosophy (Wiley-Blackwell, 2013). 

Jeffrey Jensen Arnett, Metalheads: Heavy Metal Music and Adolescent Alienation (Boulder, Colorado: Westview Press, 1995). 

Garry Sharpe-Young, Metal: The Definitive Guide (London: Jawbone Press, 2007). 

Robert Walser, Running with the Devil: Power, Gender, and Madness in Heavy Metal Music (Middletown: Wesleyan University Press, 1993). 

Deena Weinstein, Heavy Metal: The Music and Its Culture (Da Capo Press, 2000). 

MUSIC AND RELIGION The Book of Amos

"My dad really wanted me to write religious music.
He got his wish I guess."

-Tori Amos*

Few artists in popular music have had a more explicit interest in religious themes than Tori Amos. Daughter of a Methodist minister, the American singer, pianist, and songwriter rose to prominence in the early '90s alternative music scene and has often explored paradoxical elements of the sacred and profane through the course of her many albums. Her songs are neither quaint nor devotional, but a harsh look at some of the deep contradictions inherent in religion and sexuality. 

Her debut solo album Little Earthquakes (1992), features an early classic composition, "Crucify." A song in which a desire for redemption is mixed with self-loathing and contempt.

I've been looking for a savior in these dirty streets
looking for a saviour beneath these dirty sheets
I've been raising up my hands
Drive another nail in
Just what God needs
One more victim

This often jarring intersection of spirituality and sexuality has been one of her signature lyrical themes. In early interviews Tori would often describe her interest in reconciling these traditionally opposed dynamics with the image of the virgin and the prostitute (evoking Christian archetypes of the Virgin Mary and Mary Magdalene) sharing a plate of spaghetti. Elsewhere, she has described her music as possessing "alchemical qualities" that work toward a union of opposites (Gallani 2005). 

It should be noted that Tori Amos' music has been some of the most raw and confessional ever recorded for popular consumption. One need look no further than her early acapella track about sexual assault called "Me and a Gun," released long before sexual violence became a topic of sustained public interest. Yet even this song incorporates religious imagery, whereby the singer finds herself in conversation with Jesus. This same frank tendency is also present in "Precious Things," another stand out track from Little Earthquakes. This time Tori brings us back to her school days, railing against "those Christian boys" who see her only as a sexual object: "So you can make me come / that doesn't make you Jesus." Not the sort of thing you're likely to hear on Christian radio, but an expression of deep spiritual anguish nonetheless.

More religious lyrical content continues with tracks from her follow-up album Under the Pink (1994). The second single from that release, "God," is an audacious and direct address of disappointment in the deity:

God sometimes you just don't come through.
God sometimes you just don't come through.
Do you need a woman to look after you?
God sometimes you just don't come through.

Although banned at the time by many radio stations in the US "Bible belt" (DeRogatis 2003: 124), this song does fit with the long-standing Judaeo-Christian tradition of direct challenges to God in the face of absence, suffering, and contradiction. The singer here is resolved to "find why you always go when the wind blows." As she explained later, the song "'God' is really about the institution...my concept of God--goddess, the creator, energy force--is not what the institution taught me" (DeRogatis 2003: 124). Indeed, resisting the rigid application of religion is often at the heart of her spiritual sensibility. 

More subtle but equally provocative is "Icicle" (also from Under the Pink) in which Amos situates her own sexual awakening in the context of her traditional religious upbringing. She remembers being obligated to present herself in her "Easter dress" and submissively bow her head "like the good book says." Remarkably, however, this causes her to wonder if "the good book is missing some pages" and, in an unexpected turn, if true experience of the Divine is connected to the enjoyment of her own embodiment. 

And when my hand touches myself
I can finally rest my head
and when they say take of his body
I think that I'll take from mine instead

Getting off, getting off
while they're all downstairs.
Singing prayers, sing away
he's in my pumpkin p.j.'s
Lay your book on my chest
Feel the word, feel the word, feel the word
Feel it

Once again, the spiritual and sexual are synthesized into a striking reflection on the paradox not only of matter and spirit, but of religious experience vs the experience of religion. 

"I just remember being brought up with a lot of shame. 

You couldn't have your spirituality and be this sensual being" 

-Tori Amos* 

Later releases such as Boys For Pele (1997)--an allusion to a Hawaiian fire goddess--also contain songs with strong religious themes. "Father Lucifer," for example, addresses itself rather tenderly to the dark lord himself--irreverently asking "How's your Jesus Christ been hanging?"--while "Muhammad My Friend" whimsically suggests that "we both know it was a girl back in Bethlehem." 

From the Choirgirl Hotel (1998), for its part, contains "Playboy Mommy," a heart-breaking ode to a daughter lost to a miscarriage: "I'll say it loud here by your grave, those angels can't ever take my place." Once again, images of the sacred are mixed with trauma and pain. 

On 2002's Scarlet's Walk, an album reflecting on post-9/11 America, she offers "Wampum Prayer," a song expressing her Native American ancestry (Amos and Powers 2005), as well as "Mrs. Jesus." 

the gospel changes meaning 

if you follow john or paul 

and could you ever let it be 

the mary of it all

Later releases continue in a similar vein, although with somewhat mixed results. "Original Sinsuality," from 2005's Beekeeper, even evokes figures from early Christian "gnostic" mythology. Not a standard lyrical trope.

Considered eccentric by some, brilliant by others, there can be no denying that Tori Amos has created a fascinating body of work that has earned a loyal following. In terms of the religious content of her writing, it can be said the few popular musicians have exhibited such openness and daring to explore difficult, awkward, and often troubling themes. Hers is a unique religious and musical vision. 

*Tori Amos MTV Revue


Works Cited

Tori Amos and Ann Powers, Tori Amos: Piece by Piece (NY: Broadway Books, 2005).

Jim DeRogatis, Milk It! Collected Musings on the Alternative Music Explosion of the '90s (Cambridge, MA: Da Capo Press, 2003).

Michael Gallani, "Tori Amos: Metaphysics and Music," Keyboard Magazine July 2005.

MUSIC AND RELIGION Prognosis: Yes and Genesis

"I'm not really interested in music; 

music is just a means of creating a magical state"

-Robert Fripp (Macan 1997: 66)

Let's face it, "progressive" rock (aka "prog") often gets a bad rap. It can be seen as self-indulgent, deliberately bewildering, pretentious, and sometimes downright silly. For the record, the same could be said about some modes of classical music. Nonetheless, I love it! I always have, since I first started seriously listening to music. It's precisely the ambitiousness of the themes and the spectacular musicianship that draws me in. For sure, it's  definitely not for everyone, but I believe it's more than worthy of careful consideration. As we might expect, like most genres of popular music, religious and spiritual themes sometimes find their way into the 20-plus-minute-epicness that characterizes the typical prog opus.

One band for which this holds true is the British prog-rock mainstay Yes. Formed in 1968, in the midst of sixties psychedelia, Yes soon found themselves at the vanguard of a wave of groups that sought to "progress" rock music beyond its bluesy origins and incorporate more folk and classical elements. Thematically, this also meant leaving behind the "baby I love you" lyrical tropes of the fifties and sixties and dealing with more complex themes. As such, images from science fiction and fantasy were brought to bear, as well as elements of emerging spirituality. Early Yes albums like Fragile (1971) and Close to the Edge (1972) set the template for much of what would come after. Fragile, for its part, contained masterful tracks like "South Side of the Sky" and "Heart of the Sunrise," as well as more whimsical fare like "We Have Heaven." Close to the Edge in turn pushed the prog-rock envelope with its title track clocking in at over 18 minutes. Side two contained the slightly less ambitious "You and I"--a mere 10 minutes! What's notable, however, about this track is its apparent spiritual optic, with part III of the song listed as "The Preacher, the Teacher" and part iv entitled "The Apocalypse." Clearly there's an aspiration for something higher. 

In the end, we'll agree, we'll accept, we'll immortalize
that the truth of the man maturing in his eyes,
All complete in the sight of seeds of life with you.

At least one author has described Yes's music as "liturgical", noting progressive rock's use of organ and choral arrangements as evocative of the religious music of the Anglican and Catholic churches (Macan 1997: 66). This may not be too far from the truth. Peter Gabriel (see below) has recalled the powerful effect of religious hymns on him and his classmates during their school days (Gallo 1980: 14). The grandiosity of religious music clearly shaped the sonic sensibility of him and many others. 

In 1973 we have an album in which many observers believe that Yes had finally "jumped the shark." This ambitious (some might say self-indulgent), four-sided magnus opus contains only four tracks: 

1) "The Revealing Science of God (Dance of the Dawn)" 
2) "The Remembering (High the Memory)" 
3) "The Ancient (Giants under the Sun)" 
4) "Ritual (Nous Sommes du Soleil)" 

All of these running around 20 minutes each. Once again, by means of the titles, we can see the obvious, if somewhat opaque, spiritual interest. 

Now, one of the things that perplexes some listeners is the impenetrability of singer Jon Anderson's lyrics. I'd be hard pressed to claim that I actually "understand" any single Yes song. Yet, it seems to me that this is precisely the point. The apparent absence of meaning, by way of free-form word association, creates a space for meaning. The listener gets to decide what significance to bring to the tracks. The only limits are the individual's imagination, stimulated as it is by the rolling sonic landscapes underneath the words. Anderson himself has readily acknowledged this, saying "sometimes I'd just use a series of tantalisingly-sounding words, but sometimes I'd get deeper into meaning and statement...I've had incredible conversations and get letters from people telling me what they think my words are all about. Who know? Maybe they're right" (Macan 1997: 70).

To take but one example from the album's opener:

Dawn of light lying between a silence and sold sources,
Chased amid fusions of wonder, 
in moments hardly seen forgotten, 
Coloured in pastures of chance dancing 
leaves cast spells of challenge,
Amused but real in thought, 
we fled from the sea whole.
Dawn of thought transferred through 
moments of days under-searching earth
Revealing corridors of time provoking memories, 
disjointed but with purpose,
Craving penetrations offer links 
with the self instructors sharp
And tender love as we took to the air, 
a picture of distance.
Dawn of our power we amuse 
re-descending as fast as misused
Expression, as only to teach love 
as to reveal passion chasing
Late into corners, and we danced from the ocean.
Dawn of love sent within us 
colours of awakening among the many
Won't to follow, only tunes of a different age.
As the links span our endless caresses 
for the freedom of life everlasting.

What on earth could such words possibly mean!?! Anything and nothing. Topographic Oceans has been said to evoke "a mystical general ecology where humans and all other life-forms live harmoniously together" (Hegarty and Halliwell 2011: 80). Yet, as the liner notes explain (let's remember albums used to come with packaging, artwork, and explanatory information): "The Revealing Science of God can be seen as an ever-opening flower in which simple truths emerge examining the complexities and magic of the past and how we should not forget the song that has been left to us to hear. The knowledge of God is a search, constant and clear." Indeed the knowledge of God is a search, often through confusion and obscurity. The song invites us, as an "ever-opening flower," to enter into a reflection on this mystery. To discern the "simple truths" and "magic" that permeates the words and music. In this way, we are not simply passive listeners, but are asked to engage the imagination (chemically enhanced or not), to go on an inner journey through a "topographic ocean" of possible meanings and hopefully arrive at some insight. 

***

Another prog band equally known for its obscurity is Genesis. Long before their polished 1980s pop period, Genesis were among the most impenetrable proggers. Fronted at the time by the enigmatic Peter Gabriel, they too could sometimes delve into the mystical and supernatural. After all their first release was titled From Genesis to Revelation (1969). Formed in 1967, the English band followed the same trajectory as Yes. Over the course of several early albums their songs becomes more ambitious and lyrically esoteric. 1970's Trespass sees the band delving into mythic territory with "White Mountain" and "The Knife." Next comes Nursery Cryme (1971) and Foxtrot (1972), featuring their own early epic sound-poem "Supper's Ready," clocking in at 23 minutes and divided into seven parts:  

I: "Lover's Leap" 
II: "The Guaranteed Eternal Sanctuary Man"
III: "Ikhnaton and Itsacon and Their Band of Merry Men" 
IV: "How Dare I Be So Beautiful?" 
V: "Willow Farm" 
VI: "Apocalypse in 9/8" 
VII: "As Sure As Eggs Is Eggs (Aching Men's Feet)" 

In the case of "Supper's Ready" the religious connotations are clear. As Gabriel would say in a later interview, the song represents "a personal journey which ends up walking through scenes from Revelation in the Bible….I’ll leave it at that" ("Rockline", 92.3FM KROCK, NYC, 16 June 1986). The surrealist lyrics testify as much, with references to "the guards of Magog" and "666," "Lord of Lords" and "King of Kings," culminating in a vision of the New Jerusalem. Pretty heady stuff, even in the universe of prog. Gabriel was apparently immersing himself in Zen philosophy at the time and was also influenced by Bunyan's spiritual classic Pilgrim's Progress (Easlea 2014: 105).

The band then moved into the heights of esoteric religiosity with their much debated concept album The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway* (1974). Called the "Ulysses of Concept Albums," it has infuriated, delighted, and baffled. The "story" is centered on a character called "Rael," who goes through a series of bizarre and hallucinogenic experiences in New York City involving his brother "John," a woman named "Lilith," three "Lamias," and Death itself. Part tale of sexual awakening, part spiritual revelation, it ends with the following enigmatic words:

When you eat right through it you see everything alive
it is inside spirit, with enough grit to survive
If you think that its pretentious, you've been taken for a ride.
Look across the mirror sonny, before you choose decide
It is here. It is now
It is Real. It is Rael
'cos it's only knock and know all, but I like it...

Taken for a ride indeed. 

Regardless of what these songs and albums may or may not actually mean, the prog-rock spiritual program is definitely a product of its time. We see a deep desire for experimentation, an embrace of ambiguity, and a blurring of traditional boundaries; all impulses characteristic of the late-60s, early 70s cultural atmosphere. It's even been said that in this period music served as a "ritual means of transporting listeners into other realms of consciousness" (Macan 1997: 66). At a time of disenchantment with traditional forms of religion, "the music took on the function of prophetic revelation; hallucinogens provided a rite of entrance into the mysteries of the temple" (Macan 1997: 68). As such, since the music is reluctant to attach itself to any kind of definitive "message," we are nonetheless invited in to seek for something deeper, to apply our own hermeneutic to the encoded sound and word. In the end, we just might find ourselves illuminated and called to co-create a prog-rock gnosis of our own. 


*I hope to deal with this album more extensively in a future post. 

Works Cited

Daryl Easlea, Without Frontiers: The Life and Music of Peter Gabriel (London: Omnibus, 2014).

Armando Gallo, Genesis: I Know What I Like (LA: DIY Books, 1980). 

Paul Hegarty and Martin Halliwell, Beyond and Before: Progressive Rock Since the 1960s (New York: Continuum, 2011).

Edward Macan, Rocking the Classics: English Progressive Rock and the Counterculture (Oxford: OUP, 1997). 

Jon Michaud, "The 'Ulysses' of Concept Albums," NewYorker.com, February 28, 2014 (accessed 2016 10 08).

MUSIC AND RELIGION: BEATLES AND STONES

The counter-cultural revolution of the Sixties was a great time of spiritual experimentation. Practices such as yoga and transcendental meditation began to be adopted widely among young baby boomers and were championed by many high profile musicians, academics, and celebrities. Hallucinogenic substances were widely ingested and perceived as opening untold vistas of consciousness. There were great hopes among many at the time that the coming “Age of Aquarius” would usher in a sense of utopian enlightenment. As we know now, it didn’t quite turn out like that.

At the vanguard of the Sixties cultural upheaval were, of course, the Beatles. Wildly beloved for their catchy and accessible “rock ‘n roll” ditties, mostly about love and teenage identity formation, their music began to take a more experimental turn with their 1966 album Revolver, which brought the band into new sonic territory. For a sense of this bold new direction, look no further than the Lennon-penned psychedelic masterpiece “Tomorrow Never Knows.”

The band’s 1967 follow-up, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, marked an even more radical and avant-garde departure. As the album’s name suggests, by this time the band was fully immersed in Sixties psychedelia, which embraced a sense of randomness and dissociation. The fab four even found themselves going to India to learn transcendental meditation from the famous Maharishi. Later on, George Harrison would continue on this spiritual trajectory, as evidenced in his solo offering “My Sweet Lord.”

As time wore on, some became gradually disillusioned with the false promises of the counterculture and its utopian ideals of peace and “free love.” After all the Vietnam War was raging and racial tensions in the United States were at an all-time high. Few things signalled the end of sixties idealism more than the eventual break-up of the Beatles. Strained by creative differences and on-going interpersonal conflicts, the band broke up in 1970. In that year, they released their “final” album Let It Be. Although in actual fact it was recorded in 1969 before the landmark Abbey Road yet was the last album to be released.

The title track from Let It Be sounds almost like a return from the psychedelic fringes to a more familiar spiritual ground. As Paul McCartney sings in the opening lines:

When I find myself in times of trouble, 
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
And in my hour of darkness 
she is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

On one level this could be understood as a reference to his own mother Mary, who died when Paul was 14; on another level it evokes a kind of Marian apparition, with Mary, the mother of Jesus, speaking “words of wisdom” to a discouraged and plaintive soul. After all, in the Gospel of Luke, when the angel Gabriel announced to Mary that she will be bear “the Son,” her reply is simply “let it be to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38). At the very least the song is a gesture of consolation to all the heartbroken fans of the Beatles and an invitation for them to simply, “let it be.”

***

The other most famous British band from the 1960s is the Rolling Stones. In some ways, they were seen to be the “anti-Beatles”—arrogant, dangerous, and overtly sexual—all the qualities that drove parents at the time into deep anxiety. Less prone to musical experimentation, the Stones kept more closely to their original inspiration—the raw rhythm and blues of the deep American south. Yet, caught up in the same wave of psychedelia as their musical peers, the Beatles, the Stones released in 1967 an album called Their Satanic Majesties Request. Poorly received by critics, the album at least speaks to the fact that the group was in touch with a darker spiritual energy; a sense that would be born out in the years to come.

Nowhere is this dark attraction expressed more clearly than in their classic 1968 track “Sympathy for the Devil.” This song, sung from the point of view of Satan, testifies to the long history of evil—from the crucifixion of Christ to the Russian revolution to the recent Kennedy assassinations. In some ways, the song strikes at the hypocrisy of Sixties idealism. As in the following verse:

Just as every cop is a criminal

And all the sinners saints

As heads is tails, just call me Lucifer

Cause I'm in need of some restraint

So if you meet me, have some courtesy

Have some sympathy, and some taste

Use all your well-learned politesse

Or I'll lay your soul to waste

There’s a sense that the world is upside down. Things are not as they should be. Overturning the established order, even with the best intentions, can lead to violence and death. Tragically, this disillusionment and hypocrisy was put clearly on display during the Rolling Stones ill-fated 1969 concert at California’s Altamont Speedway. An ill-conceived plan to use the notorious Hell’s Angels as security for the event culminated in the murder of 18-year old Meredith Hunter.

For some, this was a sure sign that the Sixties and its idealism were truly dead. Others just wanted to let it be.