by Wolfmoon Lady » Tue May 23, 2006 12:33 pm
Very interesting posts, folks. Sorry I couldn't add more yesterday, but I had too much to do.<br><br>I totally 'get' that MWS's Christmastime cover is inappropriate for mainstream (and particularly fundamentalist) Christian culture. It is bizarre, in that respect. Is he a Satanist? I would not know by the cover. What the cover's symbology tells me is that he considers himself a spiritual warrior, perhaps a go-between for humanity and God, and music is the weapon he intends to use in his personal calling as a spiritual warrior. Remember, Tyr is not the same as Lucifer, at least not within the mythology of the Norse people. I cannot say what MWS thinks, obviously.<br><br>I agree with both Roth and DE that I am basing my reading of the runic symbology on my understanding of the runes and their meanings, rather than from the viewpoint of fundamentalist Christians. Certainly, I cannot speak with the same authority as an anthropologist who has studied and then documented the sub-culture of contemporary Christian rock music. Trust me, if I were still doing fieldwork, I'd be on this in a heartbeat. The phenomenon of Christian rock is a rich topic that needs some ethographic study.<br><br>In a general way, however, I can make observations about the phenomenon of 'othering' because it's something that occurs cross-culturally and is a useful tool for understanding this situation. This particular incident is obviously upsetting to many who are perplexed by MWS's behavior, which does not conform to the way fundamentalist Christians, as a distinct cultural group, with an attending set of expectations, should behave.<br><br>In that respect, I can certainly see why MWS has shaken so many Christians who have come to trust him as one of them. He is 'othering' himself - in a significantly bizarre fashion - from a fairly conservative group of people. The phenomena of 'othering' often draws accusations of evil-doing. It is how people with a fairly standard set of cultural norms make meaning of deviant behavior.<br><br>I'm very careful about attributing evil intentions when I don't know anything about the individual. In this case, I know next to nothing about MWS. I don't like what I'm hearing, tho, and suspect he's become susceptible to the hubris that often takes over when someone who is very talented (and powerful) begins to imagine they have messianic powers (uh, this happen in politics, as well, LOL).<br><br>If MWS is into occult practices, I hope someone 'outs' him. If he isn't, and really does consider himself a spiritual warrior FOR God, then he should be very careful about the messages he imparts to a vulnerable and youthful audience.<br><br>As for MWS being a friend of the Bush family, I don't know if that's sinister, but I might be wrong. I tend to think Georgie Boy collects famous people like Imeda Marcos collected shoes. Lance Armstrong is one example. (Funny how Cheryl Crow dumped Lance quite soon after the famous cycling with the Prez incident.)<br><br>BTW: Although I didn't have time to do an extensive, peer-reviewed, literature search on the topic, I did a quick web search, using the keywords "phenomenon christian rock music" and got over 5 million hits. There seems to be a lot of stuff out there isn't scholarly but still provides valuable insight into the movement. Here are two items:<br><br><!--EZCODE LINK START--><a href="http://www.popmatters.com/books/reviews/b/body-piercing-saved-my-life.shtml" target="top">BODY PIERCING SAVED MY LIFE: INSIDE THE PHENOMENON OF CHRISTIAN ROCK</a><!--EZCODE LINK END-->, by Andrew Beaujon.<br><br><br>Here's a snippet:<!--EZCODE QUOTE START--><blockquote><strong><em>Quote:</em></strong><hr><br>Beaujon's excursion into that hip new world forms the heart of Body Piercing Saved My Life. The new generation of Christian rockers lays claim to a cool that was absent from earlier faith-based music, witnessed in the clever t-shirt that gave the book its title (picturing a drawing of Jesus' crucified hands). A visit to the Seattle label Tooth & Nail finds it as image-conscious as any other indie label but virtually unknown outside religious circles in comparison to secular hometown labels Sub Pop and Barsuk, despite comparable sales. Beaujon also profiles David Bazan of the popular emo band Pedro the Lion at great length, probably because Bazan proves endlessly interesting. While other Christian artists skirt controversial issues, Bazan openly interrogates what it means to be a Christian in today's society, finding himself frequently opposed to what passes for the "Christian" consensus. In a telling moment at a Pedro show, Bazan tells a rapt Christian crowd he doesn't even accept the religious classification, because he doesn't want his identity to suggest he voted for George W. Bush. Cheers turn to boos as he continues, "or against gay marriage." <br><br>The refusal of the Christian community at large to confront such homophobia and other forms of bigotry and extremism goes somewhat underplayed in Beaujon's accounting. When a representative of the anti-choice group Rock for Life makes the outlandish claim that contraceptive devices like the pill and the patch constitute "chemical abortions," Beaujon leaves it without editorial comment, which is fine -- the zealot hangs himself effectively enough with his own words. 1 But when the author casually mentions a band with a song comparing same-sex marriage to "murder, date rape, and car theft," the topic demands a bit of analysis: why do these young bands so unthinkingly accept homophobic dogma? How are these lyrics being consumed and experienced by their audiences? Are the bands or the fans cognizant of the Orwellian perversion of Jesus' teachings of love and acceptance that institutionalized evangelism has perpetrated? <hr></blockquote><!--EZCODE QUOTE END--><br><br>Here's a lengthy (23-pages) article, from GQ. Lots of info about what goes on at the festivals and how the audience's world view is pandered to by the musicians, who (in the following passage) are presented as mercenary opportunists.<br><br><!--EZCODE LINK START--><a href="http://men.style.com/gq/features/full?id=content_301" target="top">Upon This Rock: Rock music used to be a safe haven for degenerates and rebels. Until it found Jesus</a><!--EZCODE LINK END--> <br><br>Here's a snippet (on page 9 of 23): <!--EZCODE QUOTE START--><blockquote><strong><em>Quote:</em></strong><hr><br>For their encore, Jars of Clay did a cover of U2's "All I Want Is You." It was bluesy.<br><br>That's the last thing I'll be saying about the bands.<br><br>Or, no, wait, there's this: The fact that I didn't think I heard a single interesting bar of music from the forty or so acts I caught or overheard at Creation shouldn't be read as a knock on the acts themselves, much less as contempt for the underlying notion of Christians playing rock. These were not Christian bands, you see; these were Christian-rock bands. The key to digging this scene lies in that one-syllable distinction. Christian rock is a genre that exists to edify and make money off of evangelical Christians. It's message music for listeners who know the message cold, and, what's more, it operates under a perceived responsibility—one the artists embrace—to "reach people." As such, it rewards both obviousness and maximum palatability (the artists would say clarity), which in turn means parasitism. Remember those perfume dispensers they used to have in pharmacies—"If you like Drakkar Noir, you'll love Sexy Musk"? Well, Christian rock works like that. Every successful crappy secular group has its Christian off-brand, and that's proper, because culturally speaking, it's supposed to serve as a stand-in for, not an alternative to or an improvement on, those very groups. In this it succeeds wonderfully. If you think it profoundly sucks, that's because your priorities are not its priorities; you want to hear something cool and new, it needs to play something proven to please...while praising Jesus Christ. That's Christian rock. A Christian band, on the other hand, is just a band that has more than one Christian in it. U2 is the exemplar, held aloft by believers and nonbelievers alike, but there have been others through the years, bands about which people would say, "Did you know those guys were Christians? I know—it's freaky. They're still fuckin' good, though." The Call was like that; Lone Justice was like that. These days you hear it about indie acts like Pedro the Lion and Damien Jurado (or P.O.D. and Evanescence—de gustibus). In most cases, bands like these make a very, very careful effort not to be seen as playing "Christian rock." It's largely a matter of phrasing: Don't tell the interviewer you're born-again; say faith is a very important part of your life. And here, if I can drop the open-minded pretense real quick, is where the stickier problem of actually being any good comes in, because a question that must be asked is whether a hard-core Christian who turns 19 and finds he or she can write first-rate songs (someone like Damien Jurado) would ever have anything whatsoever to do with Christian rock. Talent tends to come hand in hand with a certain base level of subtlety. And believe it or not, the Christian-rock establishment sometimes expresses a kind of resigned approval of the way groups like U2 or Switchfoot (who played Creation while I was there and had a monster secular--radio hit at the time with "Meant to Live" but whose management wouldn't allow them to be photographed onstage) take quiet pains to distance themselves from any unambiguous Jesus-loving, recognizing that this is the surest way to connect with the world (you know that's how they refer to us, right? We're "of the world"<!--EZCODE EMOTICON START ;) --><img src=http://www.ezboard.com/images/emoticons/wink.gif ALT=";)"><!--EZCODE EMOTICON END--> . So it's possible—and indeed seems likely—that Christian rock is a musical genre, the only one I can think of, that has excellence-proofed itself.<hr></blockquote><!--EZCODE QUOTE END-->.<br><br>Gotta go!<br>Morgan <p></p><i></i>