The principle trombone player in my summer band is brilliant. He can play the blues, swing, big band, and everything from sassy to stately. He's got a pretty limited view of what musical styles should be played in church, though. The man played in clubs quite a bit in his younger years and doesn't want church music to remind him of those risky-behavior days. I guess when he is performing at the park, his memory doesn't sear so much.
I am quite a snob about certain styles of music no matter where I am--I hate techno crap and country and hip-hop and most rap--I especially hate those forms when I have to hear them from someone else's car stereo when I am in traffic. I don't think those styles are evil, though, not in and of themselves, at least. I think that if a person is black hearted, they'll be no less black hearted if they listen to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir than if they listen to Eminem.
When I was a kid, growing up in a very conservative church where playing cards was as wicked as committing murder, my church decided to host a kind of party to purge the youth in the congregation of their wicked, wicked, trashy, Hell-bent rock and roll records. The Devil's music. Everyone was encouraged to bring in their filthy trash and smash the vinyl up front by the podium. Each teenager was allowed to give testimony before smashing up their collection, with shards of black plastic spraying all over the floor. Amen. I couldn't have been more than 10 years old, and because my parents had their own strict views on what kind of records my sisters and I were allowed to own, we didn't sacrifice any of our own records. The Lettermen weren't hippified enough, I guess. I was recruited to shred the cardboard sleeves of the records, though. I was placed at the back of the church with the preacher's daughter, and the two of us were instructed to rip the sleeves to bits into paper grocery bags.
I wept. Not literally, but I was very bothered. I was forced to dismember some of my favorite music that I listened to when my parents were out of the house. The minute they left for work, my sister and I would turn the radio dial from the gospel station to the top 40 station, and we carefully turned it back before they returned home at the end of the day. While I dutifully ripped cardboard, I complained so loudly and pretended to cry over the job at hand that my mother was furious. When she got me home at the end of the "celebration," she gave me such a talking to about how ashamed she was of me and how embarrassing my behavior had been and how I better get my mind right. I almost thought she would give me a night in the box for all of her ranting.
I didn't buy it then, and I don't buy it now--this notion that forms of music are good or bad. I wonder how many people who gave up their record collections in the 70s replaced them all with CDs later on. And I wonder what their iPods hold now. And I wonder if they regret getting caught up in a frenzy of purging in the interest of tightening fearful, black-and-white reins.
Update: my sister emailed with her take on the funky church thing. Here is what she said: All the missionaries called it the fertility beat – just like the natives had in the jungle. You would have thought we were going to get pregnant just listening to it.
I am quite a snob about certain styles of music no matter where I am--I hate techno crap and country and hip-hop and most rap--I especially hate those forms when I have to hear them from someone else's car stereo when I am in traffic. I don't think those styles are evil, though, not in and of themselves, at least. I think that if a person is black hearted, they'll be no less black hearted if they listen to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir than if they listen to Eminem.
When I was a kid, growing up in a very conservative church where playing cards was as wicked as committing murder, my church decided to host a kind of party to purge the youth in the congregation of their wicked, wicked, trashy, Hell-bent rock and roll records. The Devil's music. Everyone was encouraged to bring in their filthy trash and smash the vinyl up front by the podium. Each teenager was allowed to give testimony before smashing up their collection, with shards of black plastic spraying all over the floor. Amen. I couldn't have been more than 10 years old, and because my parents had their own strict views on what kind of records my sisters and I were allowed to own, we didn't sacrifice any of our own records. The Lettermen weren't hippified enough, I guess. I was recruited to shred the cardboard sleeves of the records, though. I was placed at the back of the church with the preacher's daughter, and the two of us were instructed to rip the sleeves to bits into paper grocery bags.
I wept. Not literally, but I was very bothered. I was forced to dismember some of my favorite music that I listened to when my parents were out of the house. The minute they left for work, my sister and I would turn the radio dial from the gospel station to the top 40 station, and we carefully turned it back before they returned home at the end of the day. While I dutifully ripped cardboard, I complained so loudly and pretended to cry over the job at hand that my mother was furious. When she got me home at the end of the "celebration," she gave me such a talking to about how ashamed she was of me and how embarrassing my behavior had been and how I better get my mind right. I almost thought she would give me a night in the box for all of her ranting.
I didn't buy it then, and I don't buy it now--this notion that forms of music are good or bad. I wonder how many people who gave up their record collections in the 70s replaced them all with CDs later on. And I wonder what their iPods hold now. And I wonder if they regret getting caught up in a frenzy of purging in the interest of tightening fearful, black-and-white reins.
Update: my sister emailed with her take on the funky church thing. Here is what she said: All the missionaries called it the fertility beat – just like the natives had in the jungle. You would have thought we were going to get pregnant just listening to it.
Comments
That is really scary. It reminds me of Beatle Burning when I was a kid. I'm going to have to do a post rather than a really long reply here.
Every generation evolves in an evil way according to the church. So they preach the doctrine of smash and destroy which only makes it far more interesting to kids.
We confiscate suspect or R rated dvds at work and some of the workers will confiscate music as well if they find it objectionable.
I hated eminem when he first came out, Working with the kids that I do it was not unusual to walk onto a shift and hear it blasting from a bedroom.
I made a deal with the kids, they could listen to anything they wanted as long as they respected my right to listen to my music as well. and it worked well.
When you sit and listen to eminem's lyrics and ignore the swearing he actually writes about some pretty personal stuff.
The kids in my class surprised me the other day by singing along to credence clearwater revival.
At the end of the day the beatles had the same impact as did elvis.
Scary.
Good for you for thinking for yourself.
Rich, fortunate for you that you were allowed to listen to something that actually involved a guitar and drums.
Terroni. I haven't seen Jesus Camp yet, but I can imagine. A very good point that burning and smashing doesn't make us good, does it?
Kate, a good approach to offer alternatives. I love Creedence, but I'm afraid they were included in the smashing.
Sassy, it really is easy to get caught up in mob thinking, I'm afraid. We see it all the time, don't we.
Dive, the "night in the box" was a reference to Cool Hand Luke when the prison warden threatened each prisoner with a night in the box if they broke the rules. I never had to actually spend a night in one myself--it just felt like it sometimes. hee hee