Guitar Slinger: Brian Setzer

Brian Setzer live at Salzburg, 2006. Creative Commons.

By Troy M. Meier

With his overwrought pompadour rocking and his signature Gretsch hollow-body guitar twanging away, Brian Setzer arrived on the U.S. pop music scene with a vengeance in the early 1980s. Up to that point, American audiences were OK with reruns of Laverne & Shirley and Happy Days—all benign depictions of a clichéd 1950s heartland America. But when Setzer and his band began getting primetime MTV rotation, an illusion was shattered and a trio of tattooed rockers—who made The Fonz look like a momma’s boy—was introduced into the homes of millions of U.S. teens in the form of the Stray Cats.

In 1980 the Cats strutted their way from their native Long Island, New York, where they received only ho-hum attention, over to England, where Setzer and the boys created a flurry of excitement among an already-thriving Teddy-boy and punk rock scene. Welsh hit-producer Dave Edmunds took them under his wing, and within months they were rubbing elbows with stars and climbing the record charts. The clincher was an opening spot on a Rolling Stones U.S. tour.

Soon, the Stray Cats became a household word in music circles, and Brian Setzer was enthralling the guitar world with scorching new takes on riffs he seemingly pulled out of the graveyard. He became admired and respected as a real technical dynamo.

In the middle 1990s the Brian Setzer Orchestra tapped into a fledgling revival of the swing genre that shot him on yet another meteoric rise—this time with the approval of the mainstream music industry—culminating in a success story resulting in multiple Grammy Awards and other industry accolades for his CD Dirty Boogie. Since then he’s continued to tour and pump out critically acclaimed CDs with his seventeen-piece rocking band. He records for motion picture soundtracks and has become a holiday favorite, with his Christmas CDs—threatening to replace Harry Connick Jr. as the torchbearer for that revered honor.

But through the years, Brian Setzer has been known to show a softer, more contemplative, spiritual component to his art as well. We wanted to find out where the raucous meets the redeemed.

Troy M. Meier: You’ve tackled at least two genres—rockabilly and swing—once thought to be dead-ends musically, and you seem to have reinvented both of them. What does that say about you as a musician?

Brian Setzer: That I like to recycle? [Laughs] It’s funny because I know people say that about me. The rockabilly thing…paralleled punk to me, and it shook up that whole kind of established, performed music at the time. So I was almost maybe a little over-qualified for it since I did read and write music. In the original days, I think those rockabilly guys came out of the hills and plugged in and played.

I understand the rockabilly thing, but how’d that translate into a full-blown orchestra?

That sound, watching the old Johnny Carson Tonight Show, always intrigued me. I thought, “Imagine if I could play my song, ‘Rock This Town’ with a big band behind it.” So I had thought of that a long time ago and eventually had the nerve to try it. It’s been fourteen years now. So that’s kind of how all that started. Also, I liked the themes. I kind of like jumpin’ around.

Who is your biggest influence?

The one who had the whole package, the guy had the whole thing was Eddie Cochran. I didn’t know how well he played guitar, I didn’t know about his songs, but I remember seeing that record cover. He had that hair slicked back, and I said, “I want to look like that guy.” That guy looks so cool. For some reason, I related to that, and not to the kind of hippy styles that were popular. I mean, that’s what it was in the late 60s and early 70s. You know, everybody had long hair and earth shoes, and I was going to school with slicked back hair and motorcycle boots. I was just instantly attracted to that look.

Did you get hassled in high school when your taste in musical style started to change and go against the grain?

Not so much in high school, but after high school, yeah. There were people calling me names out of their car because I had a funny hair cut. I still get that when I go home. I turn around and think, “Wait a minute. I’m forty-eight years old. I have a grown son. You can’t call me that!”

Was that part of the impetus in the early days to go to Great Britain? Or was that purely musical?

The real impetus for me to go was the picture on the cover of the NME [British magazine New Music Express]. We used to buy it at the local record store, and there was a picture of a guy on the front with a coif, a pompadour, and an earring. Do you know what it was like to have an earring in 1979? Guys didn’t wear them or have tattoos. We saw a picture of this guy and said, “Someone like us exists somewhere else, and it’s in England. That’s where we have to go.” So that was really the motive for going.

Your latest CD is called Wolfgang’s Big Night Out. My kids have already danced to it in the backyard.

Well, that’s cool. That’s a good test.

Musically, it seems like a whole heck of a lot to tackle. What was your motivation to do a whole CD of classical compositions?

I basically got pestered into it. Well, here’s what happened. I sat down and started playing The Blue Danube. I said, “Well, that’s kind of neat.” So I went to downtown Minneapolis where I recorded my three guitars, and I played it back for my wife, and she said, “It’s really cool. You have to play this for Dave, your manager.” So I played it. That was the first mistake. He said, “Oh, you gotta write the chart. You gotta sit down and write, finish the song.” So I thought to myself, I’ve got to just pull the parts of The Blue Danube that I like. So I sat down with my guy, Mark Jones, and we wrote a chart, and that sort of got the ball rolling. I thought, “Wait a minute, this is pretty darn cool. I gotta do another one,” and that’s where Frank Comstock came in. That’s where the ball started rolling.

Who is Frank Comstock?

I don’t know what to say about Frank Comstock. I mean, he’s eighty-four years old, and when he goes, you will not hear that kind of chart writing anymore. I mean, he’s like the last guy. He writes those old school incredible big band charts that nobody can really write. I can’t come close to it. So I approached him. He wrote the “Nutcracker Suite” for Les Brown in 1957 that we covered [on one of our Christmas CDs]. I said to my manager, I can’t write twelve charts. It will take me a year. It’s just too much work. I said, Can you contact Frank Comstock and see if, A, he’s still alive, and, B, if he even knows who I am or if he’d be interested? So fast forward a bit and I get the guy on the phone and he says, “Oh, I haven’t written one of these things in years.” The Adam-12 theme was the last thing he wrote.

Unbelievable.

He wrote the theme to the Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoon also. He said, “I haven’t written anything in forty years. I don’t know if I can do it.” I said, “Well, here’s Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. If you want to have a little fun, pull it apart.” So he calls me back in about three days and says, “It’s done. I’m going to send you the score.” So then I scored another one, and Frank said, “Give me another song.” I said, “Well, let me see…How about Mozart?” Four or five days was all it took. In a couple of weeks another one comes. I said, now we’ve got to call a rehearsal and see if this is any good because I don’t want to keep writing if this isn’t going to work. But when I heard Frank’s charts back, I said, “Oh my God!” I think it’s fantastic, I don’t know what people are going to think, to be honest with you, but then I let the horse out of the barn, and he was asking me to give him another one. Then he had ideas of songs he wanted to write. So by the time we finished, he had written six or seven, and I had written six or seven.

That’s got to be a career highlight for you as a musician.

I gotta tell you, planning these charts was probably the most complex thing I’ve ever done. I mean, it really swings. It’s amazing because everybody knows these songs. They’re hits already. If I could make these things new, and make them swing and put a little of my Gretsch in there, it’s gonna be fun.

Do you think it is important that this music get rediscovered in some sort of way?

It is. I like to say that I do things strictly for fun and because it bends my ear musically, but this is pretty cool. If your thirteen-year-old daughter starts singing “Hall of the Mountain King,” and they will discover that this song is two hundred years old, and that this is good music, that’s pretty important isn’t it?

There are some in the roots music scene who didn’t like what you did with the music—that you strayed too far afield. Any reaction to that?

I’ve learned a lot of people don’t want you to do that. A lot of people want you to stay in that little box, especially in these circles. In these rockabilly circles, you get these people—I guess you’d call them purists. You’ve gotta use 12 gauge strings through a crummy old guitar and cuff those jeans one-and-three-quarter inches. There’s a lot of people who don’t want you to take those chances. I’ve discovered that. That’s never been me since the beginning. I’ve always just taken the rockabilly thing and used it as a springboard and have just jumped in different directions with it. I think that the rockabilly scene is really stale. That’s gone nowhere, you know, that’s just stayed in its little area because people don’t want it to be…they don’t want it to expand. They don’t want to make something new out of it. They put it in a little glass case. You’ve got to break the glass case, take it out, and have fun with it.

You’ve earned a reputation as a musical and cultural maverick of sorts. When you write, record, and release a beautiful song like “St. Jude,” this seems to fly in the face a little bit of your reputation. Can you elaborate on your patron saint?

Well, thanks. This is kind of my private belief. I can tell you St. Jude, I’ve leaned on him a lot, and he’s helped me out a lot, and I believe in him, and I wrote a song, kind of after 9/11 for St. Jude to help us, and I dedicated the song. It’s a plea, and it’s also a dedication. As a matter of fact, I have a little pin of him in my wallet.

In the song, you say, “It’s something that’s scorned from the left / And abused by the right / It’s something so misunderstood / And ignored in daily life / If you proclaim the mystery of faith / You’ll be absolved from daily strife / Through Him, in Him, and within Him / Springs our eternal life.”

Yeah. That’s a heartfelt song.

Does your spiritual side play a role in your day-to-day decision-making?

You know, I think it does because it’s kind of a guideline for life. It’s kind of a rulebook, you know, a rulebook of good and bad. And I think that when you’re raised with that in your life, it kind of answers a lot of questions that you might have. These are guidelines for good and bad in your life, and that’s just my personal belief, and I find with people who do have spirituality, you don’t see them acting as rude and you see them helping out other people more. I might be wrong, but that’s my personal experience.

Was there some point in your life when things changed for you spiritually?

Well, I grew up going to church. Your dad made you go in those days, you didn’t want to, right, but I think what really kicked it—I can’t really talk about it because it’s too personal—but there were events prior to my dad’s passing that were unexplainable that really shook me up, and there’s no way that you could not believe that there was somebody else out there because it was just too unexplainable, the events that happened prior to my dad’s passing. That was in ’93.

How did that experience affect you?

There’s no way these events right before he died, would have happened. It’s just like if you won the lottery three times in a row, I mean, it was that kind of crazy, and what that proved to me was that there’s something to this, there’s something going on.

What would you do if you weren’t playing music?

I’d be a teacher. I’ve got to be honest with you, I have very little patience, except for teaching. I love teaching kids guitar. That’s what I plan on doing sometime in my life. I love to see kids when they can’t quite put the idea together, and I connect the dots for them, and that lightbulb goes off. I love it. I have patience all day long for that.

Has disaster ever struck the Setzer home?

Disaster? Well, we’ve had our share of ups and downs, but we’ve always pulled out of it. I guess the biggest disaster, you know, is you could say, your parents passing away. My mom’s still around. My dad, he was kind of the rock of the family. When he passed, we said, “What are we gonna do now?”

You’ve said before that you believe in prayer. How does that—or does that—play a role in your life?

Well, like I said, I have my patron saints, and it’s just, it’s a good meditation. Sometimes I’ll go to church, and I’ll just read the Bible, and I won’t even say it along with the Mass, but sometimes, I’ll just sit at home and you know, I believe it does something, I really do. I believe there’s a power there. You know, it doesn’t matter if you do it in a synagogue or by your bedside, but there’s a power there.

What is your biggest blessing?

My biggest blessing, really, is three healthy children. I have three beautiful, healthy kids. Well, my son’s a man now. And my beautiful wife, what a blessing she is. And I was given a gift to play this guitar and make people happy.

If there is a curse, what do you think you’ve been cursed with?

The inability to sit still and shut up. Even back in grade school in class, the teacher would yell, “Setzer, sit down and be quiet.” I’m just one of those kind of guys. I envy people that can just go to the beach and relax and enjoy the day. I could never do it.

What’s your picture of heaven?

Wow!

I know it’s heavy.

Of course, none of us know…But I think you’re going to see an ultimate peace. I do believe it’s an ultimate peace, and I do believe we will see our loved ones. It sounds simplistic, but I believe there’s an ultimate peace. I believe it’s a place better than this.

You’ll be able to sit down and shut up.

Yeah, without having a teacher telling me to do it!

(c) Troy M. Meier is a freelance writer, musician and producer. This interview appeared in Risen Magazine.  

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The fevered love of June and Johnny

By Steve Beard

On Thursday, May 15, 2003, June Carter Cash (1929-2003) died of complications from heart surgery. She was 73.

It is strangely fitting that the last time the public saw the face of June Carter Cash was on the enormously popular music video for her husband’s rendition of a song called “Hurt.” She is seen looking down upon her beloved husband, Johnny Cash, as he sings about pain and loss. The well-worn lines upon her face express love, betray concern, and proclaim pride. Johnny was her man through thick and thin.

june“I hurt myself today/ To see if I still feel/ I focus on the pain/ The only thing that’s real,” Cash sings. “The needle tears a hole/ The old familiar sting/ Try to kill it all away/ But I remember everything”—a poignant reminder of his dark years in the 1960s.

June remembers those days of thunder and lightening. She stood by Johnny’s side—doing everything she could to break his voracious dependence on pills and save his soul. “She’d take my drugs and throw them away, and we’d have a big fight over it. I’d get some more, and she’d do it again,” Cash recalls. “I’d make her promise not to, but she would do it anyway. She’d lie to me. She’d hide my money. She’d do anything. She fought me with everything she had.”

She waged this war because she loved Cash too much to watch him die. Through the power of prayer and June’s tough love, Johnny was able to break the power of addiction and find peace in his heart. Their love and dependency upon one another become a spectacular love story.

June came from the legendary Carter Family—musical pioneers of folk, country, and bluegrass music. When she met Johnny for the first time backstage at the Grand Ole Opry in the late 1950s, June was singing back-up for Elvis. “I want to meet you. I’m Johnny Cash,” said the tall, lanky Man in Black. She responded by saying, “Well, I ought to know who you are. Elvis can’t even tune his guitar unless he goes, ‘Everybody knows where you go when the sun goes down.’” It was a line from one of Cash’s first hits, “Cry, Cry, Cry.” During their tour, Elvis would drag June along as he popped coins in the jukeboxes throughout the South to hear Cash’s songs.

June joined Cash on the road in 1961. They fell in love while they were still married to other people. “I used to go to church about every day for a year,” recalled June in Will You Miss Me When I’m Gone: The Carter Family & Their Legacy in American Music. “I used to get out my Bible and look through it. I used to wear out my knees and pray.”

“Love is a burning thing,” Johnny would sing, “And it makes a fiery ring/ Bound by wild desire/ I fell into a ring of fire.” Although the song was a huge hit for Cash, it was written by June and her cousin Merle Kilgore. It also best typifies the relationship between Johnny and June.

“One morning, about four o’clock,” recalls June, “I was driving my car just about as fast as I could. I thought, ‘Why am I out on the highway this time of night?’ I was miserable, and it all came to me: ‘I’m falling in love with somebody I have no right to fall in love with.’” She was frightened of his way of life, having seen first-hand the way that lifestyle killed country legend Hank Williams. She thought to herself, “I can’t fall in love with this man, but it’s just like a ring of fire.”

Both Johnny and June knew what was percolating between them. “We knew what was going to happen: that eventually we were both going to be divorced, and we were going to go through hell. Which we did,” recollects Cash. “But the ‘ring of fire’ was not the hell,” he clarifies. “That was kind of a sweet fire. The ring of fire that I found myself in with June was the fire of redemption. It cleansed. It made me believe everything was all right, because it felt so good.”

Together, the two of them would sing, “We got married in a fever/ Hotter than a pepper sprout” for their hit “Jackson” and it serves as a good descriptor of their marriage. “I think all this free love is a passing plaything,” said Cash in a 1971 interview with Redbook magazine. “June and I found what we want in this world, and it’s beautiful, the love we have for each other.… I don’t think there’s anything in this world that could destroy my marriage to June.”

Nearly thirty years later, Cash would tell Rolling Stone that “unconditional love” was the glue of his marriage. “You hear that phrase a lot, but it’s real with me and her. She loves me in spite of everything, in spite of myself. She has saved my life more than once,” he said. “She’s always been there with her love, and it has certainly made me forget the pain for a long time, many times. When it gets dark, and everybody’s gone home and the lights are turned off, it’s just me and her.”

Steve Beard is the creator and curator of Thunderstruck.org. This article is excerpted from Spiritual Journeys (Relevant), where he profiles Johnny Cash.

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Leigh Nash: The Right Time

By Steve Beard

Six years ago, I was provocatively reminded of the pervasiveness of American culture while I was walking around an outdoor market in Kuala Lampur, Malaysia. Amongst the tables full of trinkets and indigenous crafts, I spotted a Kenny Rogers Roasters chicken joint and heard the megahit “Kiss Me” from Sixpence None the Richer over a transistor radio.

leighnashThe setting seemed almost surreal. There in the center of that Muslim capital city, Malaysians were scarfing down poultry under the grinning face of Kenny Rogers and singing a simple love song along with the angelic and innocent voice of Leigh Nash.

The song’s appearance on a playlist on the other side of the globe is not totally surprising. It was a huge hit. While some would dismiss it as syrupy, the rest of the world sang along with the universal longing for a simple kiss. The tune became the most-played song in nearly a dozen countries, landed Sixpence on the late night shows, and found its way onto TV and movie soundtracks.

Leigh Nash and Matt Slocum formed Sixpence None the Richer (a reference from C.S. Lewis) when she was only 14 and he only a few years older. “Kiss Me” was a gratifying reward for the two of them, who had traveled on the road with their band for so many years before their big break. That hit was followed by the band’s cover version of “There She Goes.”

As suddenly as the flame of fame had been fanned, the politics of the music industry extinguished the inferno. Rather than capitalizing on their successful hits, Sixpence’s record label left them dangling in an artistic purgatory. The band’s next album was released without fanfare—with only long-time fans even knowing it was being released.

Sixpence amicably disbanded in 2004. Shortly thereafter, Leigh and her husband, Mark, became the proud parents of Henry. With Leigh cutting her teeth on motherhood after 13 years on the road with her male bandmates, her life became a completely new adventure. The record label machinations left her hogtied, frustrated, and slightly vengeful.

Leigh Nash, however, was not going to go away quietly in the night. She spent last November in Montreal with Pierre Marchand (Sarah McLachlan’s producer/collaborator), working on her first indie solo album. She seems ready for this chapter in her life.

When we met at Fido’s Coffeehouse in Nashville, Leigh didn’t strike me as a mommy rocker. She’s unpretentious, charmingly Southern, and fetchingly adorable. She even bought my coffee. A week after our lengthy conversation, I met up again with her in New York, where she was singing at the hipster hangout Arlene’s Grocery in Soho. Hearing her in that intimate setting, I was reminded why I fell in love with her voice so many years ago.

As we were chatting after the show, a young woman introduced herself to Leigh and said how much Sixpence None the Richer meant to her as she was growing up. When she was 16 years old, she would steal her dad’s car and drive around for hours listening to Leigh’s melodic vocals.

There was sweet relief on the young woman’s face. Leigh’s back. Finally.

Have you ever been tempted to sing “Kiss Me” in a karaoke bar?
[Laughs] Yes, I have. I have actually done that. I only did it once. It was a dare.

No one made the connection that you were actually the one singing your huge hit?
Nope, no one knew.

How did you begin singing in public?
I was really, really shy as a child. But for some reason I really wanted to be on stage and I found myself completely captivated by old country songs like “You Aint Woman Enough to Take My Man”—a Loretta Lynn song—and anything sung by Patsy Cline, George Jones, and Charlie Pride. I called this local dancehall in New Braunfels, Texas, and asked the band that played there on the weekends—they were called the County Line—if I could join them during their set on just a couple songs. They were kind enough to let me. I was about 13 years old. I am sure they thought it was funny or cute. I showed up with my little bolo tie and my painted-on red pants. My parents were always there. They were always very supportive, but they never pushed. I don’t think they could believe it. I was the daughter who could not even speak to people without blushing.

Was this a honky tonk?
It was a honky tonk—exactly. And on Sunday nights they didn’t serve alcohol.

Do you have any lasting memories of that experience?
I remember that a group of bikers came in one of those Sunday nights. They were all tattooed up. My dad and I were about to leave and one of the guys kind of punched me on the arm and “You’re going to make it, baby.” My dad and I laughed about that for years. We thought that was so funny. I was only 13 years old. At the time, I was terrified—out of ignorance—of anyone who rode a motorcycle. Being punched on the shoulder and given encouragement like that was amazing. [Laughs]

When did you begin collaborating with Matt Slocum?
I met him in church. I don’t remember exactly the first time he heard me sing, but there were a few times that I sang a Sandi Patty song in front of the whole congregation. He had been listening to the Innocence Mission, the Sundays, 10,000 Maniacs, Crowded House, and all this really cool stuff, and he wanted to start a band. He took me away from all of that country and got me into the kind of music that I had never heard. It was a whole new education for me.

How old were you at the time?
I was 14 when we recorded our first demo. Matt had written a song called “Trust.” He was only 17 or 18 at the time. Musically, we were bonded at that point and were going to do stuff together from that point on.

He carted you all around Texas at that age without your parents?
Yep, in his little black Toyota truck. We went up and down 35—the north-south highway between New Braunfels and Dallas—almost every week at one point. We were playing at a really cool club down in Deep Ellum called Club Dada. I was about 15. We never got much interest from clubs in Austin—which would have only been about 45 minutes away—but Dallas was four hours away. So, of course, that was where we had to go.

Was there ever a romantic connection between you two?
Nope. None whatsoever.

You spent more than 15 years on the road with all guys. Describe the weirdness of all that.
It was weird, but that is all I had ever known. It felt completely normal to me because I was 14 and as I got older the more touring we did in vans and cars. I was used to being around dudes. By the time that my husband, Mark, came along, I was a pretty seasoned van traveler with all these boys. My best friends were boys. It just seemed to be totally normal to me. I think it became normal to Mark. It never bothered him. He knew the freaks I was out on the road with and that they were friends material and that no one was after me.

What does it feel like to be an artist trapped under a contract?
It felt like your arms and legs tied behind your back. It felt awful. It seemed like it happened over and over again. Our wings were continuously clipped. If we were still together, I could say, “It made us stronger. Look at us now.” But in the end, it did not work out like that. I like to believe that things work out like they are supposed to. I wish it could have been one of those situations where we were together for 25 years and still best friends at the end of it all—we still are all really good friends—but we lasted a good long time. I wanted it to last longer, but now that I have made my own record and have some independence I am really thankful and I think it was the right thing.

You sound like you’ve dealt with it, but surely this was good cause for depression.
It was frustration about not being able to get answers. At the time, our manager was doing a great job and was trying to get it worked out. It was not his fault. They kept saying, “You should hear something this week.” It was always six months away. It was never that week. I was just mad at the process. It was always like, we are waiting to hear this. We are waiting to hear that. Just another week, another week, another week. That’s what drove me insane. I think that if somebody would have said, You guys are screwed and its going be two years, I could have made better use of my time. It always seems that way in this business. You are just waiting on some jackass to make a decision. It is ridiculous.

What percentage of your new album is revenge at the record label and what percentage is your need to create?
I would say revenge is two percent—really and truly. It’s in there. I want it to go super well without a record label. The rest is wanting people to hear this music and find a connection with it and love it. I want to be heard three or four times a day on a pop hits radio station. I wanna be like Rod Stewart!

Where did you see God in the midst of that fiasco? Were you mad at Him?
No, not at all. The picture in my head is of a young colt jumping and writhing around in a little pen, but if it were to get out it would hurt itself. The pen is there for a reason and the owner is standing there. What can you do? The colt can calm down, have some water, try to learn to read [Laughs]—get some other skills. I was just fighting and fighting and fighting. I think that you either have to grow from something like this or destroy yourself. I think I probably did something in between. Hopefully, I grew from it as much as possible. I didn’t fall into any destructive behaviors as a result of that anger. So I guess I did grow from that, so that is good. You learn patience. Eventually, you have to sit still and learn to observe what is going on around you. In those years, I made some of the best friends that I have had in my life. I learned to not hold on to what I want so hard that God can’t still mold me and I have to have my hands open so that he can give me stuff. If you are clinching what you want so bad, He can’t get your hand open. You have to open your hands. I am still learning to do that. It is really hard.

Compare motherhood and creating a new album.
I think there’s similarities in that you don’t go into it knowing exactly what you’re doing; it’s just instinctual. I think Mark and I together are doing a really beautiful job with our son, just following our instincts and just trying to be good to him and to be good parents. Making a record is kind of the same thing. You go into it, and I was never that hands-on. In Sixpence I was always in the studio, but I was very intimidated by the process of recording and I had never played any instruments on a record, because I’m not a good enough guitar player. So that kind of removes you, too. So when I went into this, I’m really thankful I got to work with [celebrated producer] Pierre [Marchand]. He’s a master at making a record sound beautiful. And he certainly did that with mine. But, with this too, the writing, the record, the whole thing, I just followed my instincts, just like with my son, Henry. And hopefully the payoff will be as beautiful as my child is.

What is the one thing that you have the desire to teach Henry?
Whether we end up in a trailer down by the river or we do well, I want him to be proud of who he comes from and where he comes from. And I want him to have a good sense of himself.

What was your home life like as a kid?
We were stressed out. But there was a lot of love and a lot of support and a whole house full of grace. So it wasn’t all bad. But it definitely was not…hmm…. It was stressful.

Was music an escape for you?
Yeah, definitely. Matt and his music and definitely it was God’s hand that brought the two of us together. It was my savior. Well, I mean, Jesus is my Savior. But it saved me from…I don’t know what. But it was definitely a miracle.

Are faith and creativity at war with one another, or do they walk hand-in-hand?
At this point in my life I guess I don’t really know. I mean, I think that my faith makes me who I am. And so whatever I do, that’s what I walk with. It’s this amazing faith and this belief that is stronger at some times than others. But I still carry it with me and it changes who you are. I mean, it’s everything. So I think they walk hand-in-hand, absolutely.

I read on your blog that you consider Leonard Cohen your boyfriend.
Leonard Cohen has put a stake into my heart. And I’m so sick of it. But I’m this typical, you know, victim, and I’m just going to take it from him. I love him that much. He’s old now, and he’s got other things on his mind. But if he was smart he’d wise up and give me a call.

What album are you listening to?
Neil Diamond’s new record is amazing. And one of my favorite songs, I don’t actually know what that song is called, but the lyrics from it that I love so much are: “If your goldmine comes up empty, I’ll be there to work the claims; If you’re captain of a shipwreck, I’ll be first mate to your shame.” That just gives me chills.

You are also a Golden Girls fan. Why?
Oh my gosh, yes! I totally love The Golden Girls! The show is awesome because it makes you feel safe. It’s some of the funniest stuff I’ve ever seen in my life. Those ladies have the best timing, and some of the best writing ever was done for that show.

You have a song on your new album that deals with heaven. What actually is your view of heaven?
I think just the main thing that would be heaven to me would be knowing everyone that I know here and recognizing them and being able to talk about the stuff that’s gone on and laugh about it and tell stories and, you know. It’d just basically be like Earth, but without the pain and the suffering and all the bad stuff. Because Earth did a great job with us. And I hope we’ve all got our faculties about us and we can still be funny or smart or whatever our gifts were here, that we could just share them with each other up there without all the weird stuff.

© Steve Beard and Thunderstruck Media Syndicate. This interview originally appeared in the July/August 2006 of Risen Magazine.

 

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Johnny Was a Punk Rocker: Johnny Ramone, R.I.P.

By Steve Beard

I found myself shoulder-to-shoulder with a bunch of sweaty rockers at the House of Blues on the Sunset Strip while they were complaining about needing a cigarette. We were all crammed in to see Alice Cooper and Ted Nugent blow the doors off the place. As everyone was grousing about the Los Angeles smoking ban, I could not help but chuckle to myself as I thought that if Johnny Ramone and Kid Rock joined them on stage, we would be at the one and only rock-n-roll Republican jam session.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOf course, everyone knows about all the Democrat rockers. Bruce Springsteen even wrote an op-ed piece for the New York Times. How is that for rock-n-roll? All the hipsters have signed up to do fundraising concerts for John Kerry because, uh, well, he is not George W. Bush. It has been speculated that these concerts will raise upwards of $44 million dollars for the Kerry/Edwards campaign — becoming the rather absurd situation of rich musicians raising money for even richer politicians.

Having rock stars snatching cash for liberal causes is not really news. Who is startled to hear that Sheryl Crow and the Dixie Chicks are joining Dave Matthews and Jon Bon Jovi in hawking tickets for the Democratic National Committee?

The more intriguing stories, of course, revolve around independent rockers who do not tow the party line of Rolling Stone, notable house organ for the Democrats (except when P.J. O’Rourke lampooned the Commies).

On September 15, 2004, it was announced that guitarist Johnny Ramone, one of the great independent-minded rockers, died in his sleep after battling prostrate cancer for five years. He was 55 years old. Born John Cummings, he was one of the founding members of the legendary American punk-rock band the Ramones (named after an alias that Paul McCartney used when checking into hotels).

“He was the leader of the band when things got tough,” Marky Ramone told the Associated Press. “To me, it’s like losing a brother. I’ll never forget him.”

Johnny Ramone, was indeed, an unforgettable character. While the Ramones were being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2002, Johnny took his opportunity at the microphone to make his allegiances known. “God bless President Bush,” he said, “and God bless America.” Bedecked in his trademark torn jeans and black leather motorcycle jacket, he understatedly thumbed his nose at he lockstep orthodoxy of the rock establishment. Now, that is punk rock.

“I said that to counter those other speeches at the other awards,” Ramone told the Washington Times. “Republicans let this happen over and over, and there is never anyone to stick up for them. They spend too much time defending themselves.”

On his website, Ramone assembled Top-10 lists of his favorite baseball players (Greg Maddux), guitarists (Jimmy Page), singers (Elvis), Elvis films (Loving You), and horror films (Bride of Frankenstein). He even listed his favorite Republicans: Ronald Reagan, Richard Nixon, Charlton Heston, Vincent Gallo, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sean Hannity, Ted Nugent, Rush Limbaugh, Bob Barr, and Tom DeLay.

“It was in 1960, the Nixon-Kennedy election,” Ramone told the Washington Times, that he first realized he was a Republican. “People around me were saying, “‘Oh, Kennedy’s so handsome,’ and I thought, ‘Well, if these people are going to vote for someone based on how he looks, I don’t want to be party to that.”

Ramone’s conservatism extended to his financial advice for the band — encouraging them to demand more money for shows and driving nonstop between cities to save on hotels. His band mates called him the “Rush Limbaugh of rock-n-roll.”

After hearing Slim Jim Phantom of the Stray Cats complaining about high taxes, Ramone told him the charges would be higher without the Bush tax cuts. “I told him he needs to vote Republican to keep his taxes lower — and donate to President Bush’s campaign,” he recalled.

Ironically, Ramone had an eclectic collection of friends who included shock rocker Rob Zombie, provocative filmmaker Vincent Gallo, and Bush-basher Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam. After Vedder impaled a mask of President Bush during a concert, Ramone tried to convince him of how alienating his political theater was for fans.

“I try to make a dent in people when I can,” he said. “I figure people drift toward liberalism at a young age, and I always hope that they change when they see how the world really is.”

Ramone died only days after a tribute concert was held in Los Angeles to celebrate the band’s 30th anniversary. The proceeds went to the Lymphoma Research foundation and the Cedars-Sinai Prostate Cancer Center. Singer Joey Ramone died three years prior from lymphoma, and Dee Dee Ramone died from a drug overdose in 2002.

Emcee Rob Zombie called Johnny Ramone on a cellphone from the concert so that the fans could yell, “Hey ho, let’s go!” That was a fitting way for a rocker to leave the stage, knowing that his fans will never forget the music.

Gabba gabba, hey, Johnny. R.I.P.

Steve Beard is the creator and editor of Thunderstruck Media and a contributing author to Spiritual Journeys: How Faith Has Influenced Twelve Music Icons. This obituary appeared on National Review Online on September 17, 2004.

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Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door with Bob Dylan

By Steve Beard

Shooting just began in Montreal for I’m Not There, the new biopic of Bob Dylan. In the wake of successful films about musicians, this one promises to definitely be different than Ray or Walk the Line. Six different actors will play various incarnations of Dylan’s personality: Heath Ledger, Christian Bale, Cate Blanchett, Richard Gere, Ben Whishaw, and Marcus Carl Franklin. As you may know, Blanchett is female and Franklin is black.

That kind of Dylanesque maneuver has got to have the nasally folk icon smirking.

Original art by Zela Lobb - zelalobb.com.

Original art by Zela Lobb – zelalobb.com.

For more than forty years, Dylan has energized the anti-war and civil rights movements, excited poets and songwriters, and exasperated those who have attempted to neatly pinpoint his philosophy on love, life, death, and the Almighty. With I’m Not There, director Todd Haynes will get his shot at defining Dylan.

There seems to be no end to the fascination with the man who is arguably America’s most significant and mysterious troubadour. Fans snatched up his autobiographical Chronicles, Vol. 1. PBS recently aired No Direction Home, Martin Scorsese’s four-hour documentary on Dylan’s life from 1961 to 1966. The Dylan musical, “The Times They Are A-Changin’,” will open on Broadway in October. All the while, he keeps doing his thing. The recently released Modern Times is Dylan’s 44th album.

Yet even with the flood of content from and about Dylan, fans and observers still find themselves thirsting to know more; to unwrap the enigma and comprehend the reluctant prophet. “All I’d ever done was sing songs that were dead straight and expressed powerful new realities,” he writes in Chronicles. “I had very little in common with and knew even less about a generation that I was supposed to be the voice of.”

Dylan has a nagging habit of pointing observers to his songs for answers about his beliefs. As illustrated in the new 440-page Bob Dylan: The Essential Interviews, however, there have been times when he has been more forthright. “I’ve always thought there was a superior power, that this is not the real world and that there’s a world to come,” he told Kurt Loder in a 1984 Rolling Stone interview. “That no soul has died, every soul is alive, either in holiness or in flames. And there’s probably a lot of middle ground.”

Of course, that response was given in the wake of his trilogy of gospel-related albums he produced after becoming a Christian in 1978—one of the most controversial conversions of the modern era. But his philosophy about life, death, and the immortality of the soul were not new subjects for him. When he was interviewed by Nat Hentoff for Playboy in 1966, it was noted that Dylan had said that he had done “everything I ever wanted to do.” If that was the case, Hentoff asked, what did he have to look forward to? Dylan deadpanned, “Salvation. Just plain salvation.” Anything else? Dylan continued, “Praying. I’d also like to start a cookbook magazine…I want to referee a heavyweight championship fight.”

Dylan was not being flippant, he was just being honest.

His public proclamations about Jesus brought far more controversy to his career than when he was booed for playing an electric guitar instead of an acoustic at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965. His spiritual quest was exceedingly more countercultural than a mere shift of musical instruments. Dylan’s gospel albums dumbfounded critics and aggravated a segment of his fan base when the “spokesman for a generation” had become a preacher.

Yet plenty of people heard the art that Dylan was creating. Songwriter Leonard Cohen once referred to Dylan as “the Picasso of song.” He recalls, “People came to me when he put out [Slow Train Coming] and said, ‘This guy’s finished. He can’t speak to us anymore.’ I thought those were some of the most beautiful gospel songs that have ever entered the whole landscape of gospel music.”

Bono agrees. “This album was such a breakthrough,” the U2 singer recalls. “I was always annoyed that rock could cover any taboo—sexual, cultural, political—but nobody could be upfront about their spiritual life. Before Bob Dylan, no white people could sing about God. He opened me to these possibilities.”

Dylanologists on the Internet will continue to debate the state of his theological orientation. Dylan, however, will point them right back to his art. “Those old songs are my lexicon and my prayer book,” he told The New York Times in 1997. “All my beliefs come out of those old songs, literally, anything from ‘Let Me Rest on That Peaceful Mountain’ to ‘Keep on the Sunny Side.’ You can find all my philosophy in those old songs. I believe in a God of time and space, but if people ask me about that, my impulse is to point them back toward those songs. I believe in Hank Williams singing ‘I Saw the Light.’ I’ve seen the light, too.”

A few years ago, Dylan was making a habit of opening his concerts with the song “I Am the Man, Thomas.” Out of the more than 500 songs he wrote, it would not have been unreasonable to ask why he was opening with a cover tune from the old Stanley Brothers.

The song is about a conversation between Jesus Christ and the man that all Sunday school alumni know as Doubting Thomas. “Look at these nail scars here in my hands/ They pierced me in the side, Thomas, I am the Man/ They made me bear the cross, Thomas, I am the Man/ They laid me in the tomb, Thomas, I am the Man/ In three days I arose, Thomas, I am the Man.”

It would only be offering mere speculation as to why Dylan includes his gospel-centric songs such as “Man of Peace,” “In the Garden,” or “I Believe in You” on his playlist. Perhaps we should be content to conclude that he has always been an intriguing wordsmith on a quest to find God and is merely continuing that journey.

Bob Dylan never liked being a prophet or a preacher. His is a more artistic disposition. Once, while being interviewed in London, he began to talk about the kind of people he admired. He spoke of a doctor or surgeon—someone who “can save somebody’s life on the highway. I mean, that’s a man I’m gonna look up to, as being somebody with some talent.” Dylan went on to say, “Not to say, though, that art is valueless. I think art can lead you to God.” Asked if that was art’s purpose, he remarked, “I think so. I think that’s everything’s purpose. I mean, if it’s not doing that, it’s leading you the other way. It’s certainly not leading you nowhere.”

If anyone would know something like that about art, it would definitely be Bob Dylan.

Steve Beard is the creator and editor of Thunderstruck Media. 

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Eric Clapton’s prayer for sobriety

By Steve Beard

Long considered one of rock ’n’ roll’s iconic guitarists, Eric Clapton had a problem. He was in the middle of a tour in Australia when he realized he couldn’t stop shaking. “For the second time, I’d reached the point where I couldn’t live without a drink and I couldn’t live with one.”

eric-clapton-the-autobiography1-e1270487491946As a new father, Clapton knew he had to get back into treatment. In his new autobiography, he states that he did it for his son Conor. “I thought no matter what kind of human being I was, I couldn’t stand being around him like that,” he writes. “I couldn’t bear the idea that, as he experienced enough of life to form a picture of me, it would be a picture of the man I was then.”

Clapton had been to rehab and tried to control his drinking, but once again it was controlling him. “I now had two children, neither of whom I was really administering to, a broken marriage, assorted bewildered girlfriends, and a career that, although it was still ticking over, had lost its direction. I was a mess.”

His love for his son was a prime motivation. Clapton wanted things to be different for Conor from what he had experienced as a boy. “I had to break the chain and give him what I had never really had—a father,” he writes. Clapton had grown up believing that his grandparents who raised him were actually his parents. His childhood was miserable and he was scrambling to make sure history didn’t repeat itself.

Ticking off the days in rehab, he came to the terrifying realization that nothing had really changed about his desires and that he was going to go back outside the safe confines of the treatment center completely unprepared to deal with his addiction.

“The noise in my head was deafening, and drinking was in my thoughts all the time,” he writes. “It shocked me to realize that here I was in a treatment center, a supposedly safe environment, and I was in serious danger. I was absolutely terrified, in complete despair.

“At that moment, almost of their own accord, my legs gave way and I fell to my knees. In the privacy of my room I begged for help. I had no notion who I thought I was talking to, I just knew that I had come to the end of my tether, I had nothing left to fight with,” Clapton confesses. “Then I remembered what I had heard about surrender, something I thought I could never do, my pride just wouldn’t allow it, but I knew that on my own I wasn’t going to make it, so I asked for help, and, getting down on my knees, I surrendered.”

That was in 1987. Eric Clapton has now celebrated 20 years of sobriety.

It took only a few days after that experience for him to realize that something profound had taken place within his life. “An atheist would probably say it was just a change of attitude, and to a certain extent that’s true, but there was much more to it than that,” he conveys. “I had found a place to turn to, a place I’d always known was there but never really wanted, or needed, to believe in.

“From that day until this, I have never failed to pray in the morning, on my knees, asking for help, and at night, to express gratitude for my life and, most of all, for my sobriety,” Clapton continues. “I choose to kneel because I feel I need to humble myself when I pray, and with my ego, this is the most I can do. If you are asking why I do all this, I will tell you… because it works, as simple as that. In all this time that I’ve been sober, I have never once seriously thought of taking a drink or a drug. I have no problem with religion, and I grew up with a strong curiosity about spiritual matters, but my searching took me away from church and community worship to the internal journey. Before my recovery began, I found my God in music and the arts, with writers like Hermann Hesse, and musicians like Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf and Little Walter. In some way, in some form, my God was always there, but now I have learned to talk to him.”

In 1991, Clapton’s four-year-old son died from an accidental fall from a Manhattan highrise. “I cannot deny that there was a moment when I did lose faith, and what saved my life was the unconditional love and understanding that I received from my friends and my fellows in the 12-step program,” he writes. The song “Tears In Heaven” emerged out of the anguish of the tragedy in order to help him cope.

Clapton would go to his 12-step meetings and people would get him coffee and let him vent. On one occasion, he was asked to chair the session on the third step—the one about handing your will over to the care of God. During the session, he recounted the mystical experience he had when he fell to his knees and asked for help to stay sober. “I told the meeting that the compulsion was taken away at that moment, and as far as I was concerned, this was physical evidence that my prayers had been answered,” he relates. “Having had that experience, I said, I knew I could get through this.”

Much to his surprise, a woman came up to Clapton after the meeting and said, “You’ve just taken away my last excuse to have a drink.” He asked her what she meant. “I’ve always had this little corner of my mind which held the excuse that, if anything were to happen to my kids, then I’d be justified in getting drunk,” she said. “You’ve shown me that’s not true.”

Clapton came to the sudden realization that perhaps there was a way to turn his excruciating pain and tragedy into something that could help someone else. “I really was in the position to say, ‘Well, if I can go through this and stay sober then anyone can.’ At that moment I realized that there was no better way of honoring the memory of my son.”

Steve Beard is the creator of Thunderstruck.org. This article appeared in 2007 in Risen.

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Simply Bettie Page

By Steve Beard

Ah, those jet-black Bettie Page bangs. Fifty years after they were immortalized on a pin-up icon, you still see them on the pale hipster chicks with the cat-eyed glasses. That is just one of the lasting manifestations of Bettie Page’s industrious and enigmatic seven-year modeling career. She was a splash of rockabilly, a dash of Goth, and an extra helping of sass. The Los Angeles Times described her as a “taboo breaker who ushered in the sexual revolution of the 1960s.”

Original art by Zela Lobb - zelalobb.com.

Original art by Zela Lobb – zelalobb.com.

Page died on December 11, 2008, at the age of 85. She suffered a heart attack the previous week and had been placed on life support, never regaining consciousness.

In some ways, Bettie Page is more popular today than she was in the Eisenhower-era. You can purchase her image on playing cards, t-shirts, lunch boxes, beach towels, lighters, key chains, and fridge magnets. There is even a Bettie Page action figure. Her web site has received 626 million hits since August 9, 2000.

Her legendary status was captured on the silver screen a few years ago in the film The Notorious Bettie Page. It attempts to chronicle the unlikely life of a religious Southern girl who, arriving in New York City in 1950, becomes a world-famous pin-up.

Her nude or scantily-clad image appeared in magazines such as Escapade, Wink, Titter, Eyeful, and Playboy. She was a hit with the underground fetish and bondage enthusiasts when she posed with whips, was tied to chairs and trees, and wrestled with other underwear-clad women in scenes that looked like a 1950s sorority initiation gone awry.

It didn’t matter if she was posing with a leopard skin bikini or a tight leather corset and thigh-high boots; she had a bright and playful smirk of innocence as though she were at a costume party without the spiked punch.

According to Bettieophiles, she had more magazine appearances than Marilyn Monroe and Cindy Crawford combined. In 1957, however, she suddenly disappeared and never again appeared for any photo shoot.

In whatever way the vanishing act may have added to her mystique, the effect was unintentional. Bettie simply didn’t want to model anymore. There were too many stalkers and weirdoes. In 1955, Page even found herself the target of a congressional investigation on the matter of pornography and juvenile delinquency led by moral crusader Sen. Estes Kefauver (D-TN).

World-famous Bettie never had a manager, stylist, publicist, or lawyer. She never dated anyone famous and even declined the offer to meet with fans such as Howard Hughes. The one characteristic that marked Bettie Page—aside from her figure—was her independent streak.

For nearly forty years, no one knew what happened to her. She disappeared from public view. Journalists Karen Essex and James L. Swanson were the first to track her down and publish her authorized biography, Bettie Page: The Life of a Pin-Up Legend in 1996. What happened after her modeling career only makes her more fascinating.

There is a poignant scene in The Notorious Bettie Page when she is asked by a photographer, “What do you think Jesus would say about what you are doing now?” Having been raised in church, Bettie Page (played by Gretchen Mol) responds, “I hope that if he is unhappy with what I am doing he’ll let me know somehow.”

Whether or not Jesus got terribly specific about her career choices, she certainly experienced an epiphany. Page was walking on the beach in Key West on New Years Eve, 1959, when she noticed a little white church with a neon cross and heard singing inside.

In a very rare interview with The Los Angeles Times not long ago, Page remembered, “The Lord took me by the hand and we stepped inside. I was crying in the back row about my sins. I turned my life over to the Lord.”

Over the following three years, Page attended the Bible Institute of Los Angeles (Biola), the Moody Bible Institute in Chicago, and the Multnomah School of the Bible in Portland, Oregon. For several summers, she attended the Winona Lake Bible Conference in Indiana founded by the flamboyant evangelist Billy Sunday.

While she was living in Chicago, she was a counselor at a massive Billy Graham Crusade. “I’m more proud of my work with the crusade than of anything else I’ve ever done,” she told the Times. “I get emotional just thinking about it. If ever there was a man of God, it’s Billy Graham.”

She wanted to be a missionary and applied to various mission boards but was rejected—not because she had been a fetish pin-up, but because she had been divorced. She spent the rest of her life living quietly and happily in obscurity, working as a secretary, a teacher, and then eventually living modestly off of Social Security. She had no idea that the world was intrigued by her whereabouts.

She never changed her name, or her famous hairstyle. When she was asked if she was Bettie Page, she would playfully reply, “Who’s that?” “I was never trying to keep away from people, I was just through with modeling and went on to other things,” she told Essex and Swanson. “I went right on living my life in the open all the time.”

Her raven hair turned gray. Bettie Page shunned the cameras, choosing instead to be remembered as the bombshell of her younger years. She harbored few regrets, with the exception of some of the bondage photos. “I had lost my ambition and desire to succeed and better myself; I was adrift,” she soberly confessed to the Times at age 83. “But I could make more money in a few hours modeling than I could earn in a week as a secretary.”

As for the rest of her portfolio, she remained unbowed. “From the first time I posed nude, I wasn’t embarrassed or anything,” she says. “I never thought it was terrible to be in the nude. After all, God created man and woman totally nude and put them in a garden. If they hadn’t turned against Him and disobeyed Him, they might have remained in the nude all their lives.”

In the current configuration of the cultural standoff in America, neither liberals nor conservatives are quite sure what to do with Bettie Page. She was neither a libertine nor a prude. She opposed promiscuity and favored nudity. She considered Billy Graham a hero and Hugh Hefner a friend. She followed Jesus and loved to skinny dip. Bettie was simply Bettie.

“I was not trying to be shocking, or to be a pioneer,” she once wrote. “I wasn’t trying to change society, or to be ahead of my time. I didn’t think of myself as liberated, and I don’t believe that I did anything important. I was just myself. I didn’t know any other way to be, or any other way to live.”

Steve Beard is the creator of www.thunderstruck.org – a website devoted to faith and pop culture.

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The winding path to Graceland: Elvis Presley’s spiritual quest

By Steve Beard

January 2002

Long live the King! Fully twenty-five years after his tragic death, Elvis Presley still enjoys remarkable world-wide popularity. He has been immortalized to the next generation of kiddies in Disney’s Lilo & Stitch movie, locks of his hair were auctioned off for mega-bucks by a former hair stylist, and notable authors such as Bobbie Ann Mason and Alanna Nash continue to write books about him. Not surprisingly, Elvis tops the Forbes Magazine “Top-Earning Dead Celebrities” list at the $40 million mark. The Sun Studios session that created Elvis’ debut single was recently named as the key world-changing moment in music history by the readers of Mojo, the hipper-than-thou British magazine.

Original art by Dushan Milic

Original art by Dushan Milic – dushanmilic.com.

There have been two major reissues of his hits with Elvis: 30 #1 Hits and Elvis: Second to None. The #1 Hits album debuted at the top of the charts all over the world–including the United Arab Emirates. The album sold more than a million copies in its first three weeks–staving off competition from the Rolling Stones, Bon Jovi, Beck, and India.Arie. Elvis may have left the building, but apparently his fans have not.

In order to celebrate the #1 Hits debut, NBC ran an hour special called “Elvis Lives,” which included performances from artists such as No Doubt and Dave Matthews and running commentary that ranged from the bizarre (Britney Spears) to the brilliant (Bono). The show featured Elvis as a sex symbol, racial renegade, and the prime mover of rock ‘n’ roll as we know it. The one thing they clumsily left out was Elvis’s zealous quest for God.

This kind of awkward omission would have baffled anyone with a deep knowledge of Elvis. Despite the fact that he is most well known for swiveling his hips, Presley was most obsessed with seeking God.

When Elvis rolled into Jacksonville, Florida, on August 10, 1956, Judge Marion Gooding had prepared an arrest warrant for Presley charging him with impairing the morals of minors in the event that Elvis swiveled his hips.

Young people at the Murray Hill Methodist Church heard Elvis denounced in a sermon entitled, “Hotrods, Reefers, and Rock and Roll.” Elsewhere in town, the Rev. Robert Gray, pastor of Trinity Baptist Church, offered up prayers for Presley’s salvation after declaring that the singer had “achieved a new low in spiritual degeneracy.”

The Rev. Gray gained national notoriety after being featured in Life magazine. Elvis later confessed frustration at the Baptist preacher’s actions. “I think that hurt me more than anything else at first. This man was supposed to be a religious leader, yet he acted that way without ever knowing who I was or what I was like,” said Presley. “I believe in the Bible. I believe that all good things come from God.…I don’t believe I’d sing the way I do if God hadn’t wanted me to. My voice is God’s will, not mine.”

Elvis’s spiritual journey is a key ingredient to understanding the triumphs and struggles of one of the most pivotal figures in American pop culture. As a young man, Presley was raised in poverty and southern Pentecostalism. He attended a conservative Assemblies of God church, but would often sneak off in the middle of the service to listen to the preaching and singing at a black church less than a mile away. Elvis loved gospel music and dreamed of singing it professionally before his own career took off in the mid 1950s.

Elvis’s devoutness extended far beyond his love of gospel music. “We used to read the Bible every night, if you can believe that-he used to read aloud to me and then talk about it,” testifies Dottie Harmony, who dated Elvis in 1956. “He was very religious-there was nothing phony about that at all.”

In those early days, Elvis was not shy about speaking forthrightly about his religious beliefs and his hopes that God would lead his path. “I never expected to be anybody important. Maybe I’m not now, but whatever I am, whatever I will become will be what God has chosen for me,” he told Photoplay magazine in 1957.

Despite the fame and fortune that he had acquired, he struggled to find his way through the fast-lane living afforded him at such a young age.

After the Easter service at First Assembly of God in Memphis in 1958, the Rev. James Hamill says that Elvis told him, “Pastor, I’m the most miserable young man you’ve ever seen. I’ve got all the money I’ll ever need to spend. I’ve got millions of fans. I’ve got friends. But I’m doing what you taught me not to do, and I’m not doing the things you taught me to do.”

This struggle hounded Elvis throughout his life. No less than the Apostle Paul spoke of it this way: “For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do-this I keep doing” (Romans 7:19).

Elvis told his friend Pat Boone, “I wish I could go to church like you.” After Boone told him he could, Elvis replied, “No, they wouldn’t leave me alone. I would distract the minister.” Acknowledged that potential difficulty, Boone assured Elvis that “if they see that you are coming for the same reason that they are, all of that would ease away and you could actually worship freely like everybody else. And it would do you a world of good, Elvis.” According to Boone, Elvis “felt like he couldn’t go anywhere in public. So he was sort of inprisoned. I felt like he lived like Public Enemy #1 instead of the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll. It stunted his social and spiritual growth.”

Spiritual exploration in the 1960s
Like so many other young Americans during the 1960s, Elvis explored exotic Eastern religions and experimented with drugs while reading Timothy Leary’s Psychedelic Experience. He was, by all accounts, an eccentric religious seeker on turbodrive. He seemed to have every earthly pleasure at his disposal, yet he had an insatiable intellectual and spiritual hunger for the mystical and supernatural.

One man who seemed to tap into that spiritual desire was a 24-year-old hairdresser named Larry Geller who told Elvis that he was most interested in discovering “where we come from, why we are here, and where we are going.” Geller told Elvis: “If there is purpose…then my purpose is to discover my purpose. It doesn’t matter to me if that takes years or a lifetime. That’s what we are born to do.”

This was the key to unlocking Elvis’s attention. “Whoa, whoa, man. Larry, I don’t believe it. I mean, what you’re talking about is what I secretly think about all the time,” said Presley.

Geller was asking the kind of transcendent questions that Elvis was not getting with the Memphis Mafia–his team of security and advance people. Elvis saw through the shallowness of stardom but was a prisoner to his own success. He hungered for more out of life and became obsessed with his destiny and purpose.

Under the tutelage of Geller, Elvis began to devour books on Hinduism, Judaism, numerology, Theosophy, positive thinking, the new-age, meditation, and Christianity. This sent Elvis off into a whole different spiritual direction and it did not sit well with those in his inner circle.

Although Elvis explored and researched many different religions and practices, he never abandoned or rejected his beliefs about Christianity. He was a true believer, but he also had the appetite of a spiritually-starved seeker. In one conversation with Geller, Elvis stated, “All I want is to know the truth, to know and experience God. I’m a searcher, that’s what I’m all about.”

Throughout Presley’s life, gospel music was the constant element of solace to man who was burning the candle at both ends in the fast lane of international celebrity. The only Grammy Awards that Elvis earned were with his gospel records. To many fans, he is as well known for “How Great Thou Art” as he is for “Blue Suede Shoes.”

Elvis owed a lot to gospel music and was stubbornly adamant about showing his gratitude. He was one of the only rock and roll stars who recorded religious music-crossing back and forth over the divide between the secular and the sacred. He insisted on singing “Peace in the Valley” on the Ed Sullivan Show for his mother and even took gospel music into the International Hotel in Las Vegas, despite protests from the management.

Glimpses of the sacred in Vegas
It was the Vegas years in the 1970s, however, that seemed to drain so much of Elvis’s vibrancy. Presley struggled with womanizing, pill-popping, reclusivity, and uncontrollable weight gain. He turned to uppers, downers and pain killers to dull the ache of depression and loneliness. Fame was a harsh taskmaster and Elvis and his entire entourage knew it.

As if to reconnect with his childhood faith, Elvis hired gospel groups such as the Imperials, the Sweet Inspirations, and J.D. Sumner and the Stamps to sing back-up for him while he was in Las Vegas. Surrounded by all of the glittery temptations that Vegas had to offer, Elvis seemed to be seeking to provide a glimpse of the sacred–for his audience, as well as for himself.

It would be a mistake to describe what went on in the Vegas shows as a revival meeting under neon lights. Nevertheless, Presley appeared to be hungering for the security and peace that he found in the faith of his childhood and was persistent to use his stature to ensure that he was able to play by his own rules.

Gospel singer J.D. Sumner recalls a woman approaching the stage in Vegas with a crown sitting atop a pillow and Elvis asking her what it was. She answered, “It’s for you. You’re the King.” Elvis took her hand, smiled, and told her, “No honey, I’m not the King. Christ is the King. I’m just a singer.”

In December 1976, Elvis requested that television evangelist Rex Humbard and his wife Maude Aimee meet with him backstage in Las Vegas in between sets. “Jesus is coming back really soon, isn’t he, Rex?” Elvis said as he began quoting all kinds of Scriptures about the Second Coming. “It really shocked me that Elvis knew all of those Scriptures from the Old and New Testaments about the Lord’s return,” Humbard told me in an interview.

Elvis, Maude Aimee, Rex and J.D. Sumner were sequestered into a large closet in order to have some privacy and speak about spiritual matters. “I could see he was reaching back to his childhood when he used to play his guitar and go to church and sing church songs,” recalled Humbard. “And I could see he was reaching back to the past–that spirituality, that feeling that he had years and years before that had been planted in his heart.”

What really shook Elvis up during their time together was when Maude Aimee told Elvis about her prayer that he would become a “bell sheep” for God. As Elvis asked her about what that meant, she explained: “In the Holy Land, they put a bell on one sheep and when it moves all the rest of the flock moves with him. I have been praying for years for you, Elvis, that you would become a bell sheep. If you fully dedicated your life to God you could lead millions of people into the kingdom of the Lord.” According to Humbard, “Elvis went all to pieces. He started crying. She shook him up by that statement.”

As the four of them held hands and prayed, “he rededicated his heart to the Lord,” recalled Humbard. “I asked God to bless him and to send His spirit into his heart and meet his every need.” Right after their prayer time, Maude Aimee went to the hotel gift shop and purchased a symbolic bell with a little diamond in it. During the evening’s second show, Elvis held up the small bell and smiled to Maude Aimee and then dedicated “How Great Thou Art” to the Humbards.

The prayers of Elvis’s final days
“Elvis recommitted his life to Jesus Christ on that night,” says Rick Stanley, Elvis’s stepbrother. “Elvis knew the Lord. He was a modern day King David,” he told me in an interview. Stanley believes that, like King David of the Bible, Presley was a man who pursued God, yet stumbled often into the sins of the flesh.

On the day before Presley died, Stanley told Elvis that a friend of his was telling him about Jesus and how she was praying for him. “Elvis Presley, at 42 years old, looked at me and said, ‘Ricky, she’s telling you the truth.’ Then he said, ‘People who talk to you about Jesus really care.’ I talked with Elvis for a while … then left to run an errand.” When he returned to Graceland, Elvis was dead.

On the night of his death, Elvis prayed, “Dear Lord, please show me a way. I’m tired and confused, and I need your help.” A few minutes later, he looked at Stanley and said, “Rick, we should all begin to live for Christ.” On the previous day, Stanley heard Elvis praying, “God, forgive me for my sins. Let…people…have compassion and understanding of the things I have done.”

Elvis was not a saint, and no one knew that better than Presley himself. He was an enigma who touched a nerve in American culture. There is, of course, no one on the planet that can attract 70,000 fans to his gravesite to recognize the 25th anniversary of his death. While there, fans recited the Lord’s Prayer, repeated the 23rd Psalm, and joined together in singing “How Great Thou Art.”

Can 70,000 fans be wrong? Sure, but these fans were not. Granted, there are small numbers of fanatics who decorate their houses with black velvet Elvis paintings and ceramic busts of The King. Nevertheless, the vast majority of fans are simply people who are grateful for the joy that Presley was able to bring into their lives through his movies and music.

Did he stumble and fall? Yes, quite often. Like so many other famous men of his era such as Martin Luther King Jr. and John F. Kennedy, Presley was tempted by the devil in the wilderness. Unlike Jesus, they were not able to resist the lures of the flesh, but we should not dismiss their contributions. Admittedly, it is sometimes easier to judge someone according to an offending snapshot of their life than to view it as an entire movie, filled with triumphs and failures.

Each one of us, who are not afforded the smorgasbord of temptation that a man like Elvis faced, must endeavor with fear and trembling to be in the world and yet not of it–no small challenge.

Throughout his career, Elvis was a seeker after God. Sometimes that journey led him into more confusion, but he hungered to know God and experience his love. And he prayed with contrition. Not bad lessons of us.

When he died, Elvis had 14 different drugs active in his system. There are plenty of lessons to be gleaned from Elvis’s tragic life but they should be absorbed through the prism of sorrow and grace.

If one looks at Elvis as a prodigal son, there is good reason to believe that he died on his journey back to the Father’s House.

At the funeral for Elvis Presley, the main address was given by the Rev. C.W. Bradley, minister of the Wooddale Church of Christ in Memphis. He spoke of Elvis’s determination, decency, and his love of family. Bradley also acknowledged that Elvis was a “frail human being” and that “he would be the first to admit his weakness. Perhaps because of his rapid rise to fame and fortune he was thrown into temptations that some never experience. Elvis would not want anyone to think that he had no flaws or faults. But now that he’s gone, I find it more helpful to remember his good qualities, and I hope you do too.”

The way in which a person dies is not always the best way to remember the contribution he or she made while they lived. All of us have seasons of our lives that we would sooner forget–whether we were on drugs, in prison, or living the life of a prodigal. It is a worthwhile endeavor to work on extending mercy to others in the same way that we trust the good Lord will extend it to us. We could all use a little trip to “graceland,” even when we are remembering Elvis.

 Steve Beard is the creator and curator of Thunderstruck.org. This article is adapted from “Defending Elvis,” published by Risen Magazine.

 

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Amazing Grace

You may remember the scene in the movie Crash (2004) where Anthony, a car thief played by rapper Ludacris, discovers a van with the keys dangling in the driver’s door. Since no one is around, he hops in and drives to a chop shop to sell off the parts. When they open up the back of the van, Anthony and the white shop owner are startled to find a dozen Asian men, women, and children. In stunning immediacy, the shop owner offers Anthony $500 for each one without a tinge of reluctance—haggling for humans like used auto parts.

As the 2006 Academy Award-winning morality tale, Crash is loaded with gut-wrenching scenes meant to prick our racial prejudices and stereotypes. The chop shop scene came to mind when I saw Amazing Grace, a recent film about British abolitionist William Wilberforce (1759-1833). The movie’s release was timed to celebrate the 200th anniversary of the abolition of slavery in England. At that time, the British Empire was heavily reliant upon the slave trade and Wilberforce dedicated his entire life to fighting the injustice.

Played by Ioan Gruffudd (superhero Mr. Fantastic in Fantastic Four), Wilberforce was elected to parliament at 23 years old. After experiencing a dramatic spiritual conversion a few years later, he struggled with his “secular” political vocation. He was ready to call it quits until John Newton, a former slave ship captain and author of the hymn “Amazing Grace,” convinced him that combating slavery would be doing the work of heaven. “The principles of Christianity,” says Newton (Albert Finney), “require action as well as meditation.”

Despite suffering from various illnesses, Wilberforce spent his life trying to ensure that others might be free. He even stopped taking the prescribed opium for his pain because it diminshed his mental alertness and rhetorical agility.

The British slave trade was shut down in 1807 because of Wilberforce’s tireless efforts, yet he continued to work until the end of his life to completely abolish slavery in England. In 1833, a bill to outlaw slavery was finally passed. Wilberforce died three days later.

But even today the global battle against slavery is far from over. “Although most nations have eliminated servitude as a state-sanctioned practice, a modern form of human slavery has emerged,” states the 2006 U.S. State Department “Trafficking in Persons Report.” “It is a growing global threat to the lives and freedom of millions of men, women, and children. Today, only in the most brutal and repressive regimes, such as Burma and North Korea, is slavery still state sponsored. Instead, human trafficking often involves organized crime groups who make huge sums of money at the expense of trafficking victims and our societies.”

The report profiles horrific examples: “Reena was brought to India from Nepal by her maternal aunt, who forced the 12-year-old girl into a New Delhi brothel shortly after arrival. The brothel owner made her have sex with many clients each day. Reena could not leave because she did not speak Hindi and had no one to whom she could turn. She frequently saw police officers collect money from the brothel owners for every new girl brought in.… Reena escaped after two years and now devotes her life to helping other trafficking victims escape.”

As sad as her story is, Reena is one of the lucky ones. In researching his book Not For Sale, professor David Batstone traveled to Cambodia, Thailand, Peru, India, Uganda, South Africa, and Eastern Europe to investigate modern-day slavery. His findings are breathtaking. “Twenty-seven million slaves exist in our world today,” he writes. “Girls and boys, women and men of all ages are forced to toil in the rug looms of Nepal, sell their bodies in the brothels of Rome, break rocks in the quarries of Pakistan, and fight wars in the jungles of Africa. Go behind the façade in any major town or city in the world today and you are likely to find a thriving commerce in human beings.”

The United Nations estimates that there are 10 million children being exploited for domestic labor. Hundreds of thousands of children are forced into domestic slavery in countries such as Indonesia (700,000), Brazil (559,000), Pakistan (264,000), Haiti (250,000), and Kenya (200,000). “These youngsters are usually ‘invisible’ to their communities, toiling for long hours with little or no pay and regularly deprived of the chance to play or go to school,” states a U.N. report. UNICEF estimates that 1 million children are forced today to sell their bodies to sexual slavery.

“The good news about injustice is that there is a God who hates it and wants to stop it,” says Gary Haugen, president of International Justice Mission. His organization of lawyers, criminal investigators, and social workers has been on the frontline to investigate human trafficking, collect evidence, and work with local authorities to rescue the victims and put the bad guys behind bars.

Abolitionists like Haugen are true superheroes. Despite the agonizing stories of slavery told in Batstone’s book, it really is a profile of the men and women who are using their unique skills and perseverance to fight injustice. “The women who embrace the child soldiers of Uganda move in a different universe from those abolitionists in Los Angeles who confront forced labor in garment factories,” he writes. “A Swiss-born entrepreneur launches business enterprises for ex-sex slaves in Cambodia, while an American-born lawyer uses the public justice system to free entire villages in South Asia.”

At the conclusion of Crash, Anthony finds a moment of redemption by freeing the Asian slaves from the back of the van. That cinematic scenario is what abolitionists hope and pray takes place wherever the darkness of slavery overwhelms the light of freedom.

Freedom matters—and now is the time for us to speak up for those who don’t have it.

Steve Beard is the creator and editor of Thunderstruck Media. 

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Soul man: The sweet sound of Al Green

By Steve Beard

AL_GREENWhen British musician Elvis Costello was asked if he had ever had a religious experience, he responded, “No, but I have heard Al Green.” Not a bad compliment coming from Costello, a musical legend in his own right.

This year’s Grammy audience was reminded of Green’s magical voice during his collaboration with Justin Timberlake on his mega-hit “Let’s Stay Together.” His captivating performance was a last minute addition when another act had to be pulled from the schedule. As a matter of fact, Green was in the shower when he got the call. “We had two hours and 40 minutes to rehearse, change clothes, go out and do it,” Green testifies. “I thrive on that kind of energy.”

Al Green rose to international fame with timeless hits such as “Let’s Stay Together,” “Call Me,” “Take Me to the River,” “I’m Still in Love with You,” “Tired of Being Alone,” and “Love and Happiness.” In the early 1970s, he sold more than 20 million albums. He was the Prince of Love, the man with the trademark smile that made women swoon in near-riotous concerts as he tossed long stem red roses to adoring fans. A few years ago, Rolling Stone declared that Green is “the greatest popular singer of all time,” describing his songs as “unsurpassed in their subtlety, grace, intimacy, and invention.”

His silky smooth voice was coupled with stage charisma, sex appeal, and undeniable charm. He was the consummate ladies’ man. His voice was a liquid calling card, wooing the listener into a sensuous and lush boudoir of his own creation.

In the summer of 1973, he had an experience that would forever change his life. He had flown from San Francisco to Anaheim, California, for his next show. Shortly after four in the morning, he was awakened by the sounds of shouting. “I sat bolt upright in bed, frightened that some crazy fan had broken into the room,” he writes in his autobiography, Take Me To The River. Green then realized that the commotion he was hearing was coming from his own mouth. “And while the words I shouted were of no earthly tongue, I immediately recognized what they meant. I was praising God…and lifting my voice to heaven with the language of angels to proclaim his majesty on high.”

He laughed. He cried. He knocked on doors of the hotel, telling complete strangers what had happened to him. One woman slammed the door in his face. Someone eventually called security.

Saint Paul was converted on the Road to Damascus; Al Green was made righteous off Interstate 5 near Disneyland.

Green had been singing about love and happiness, but there was a war going on inside—a battle for the substance of his soul. He eventually abandoned his mainstream singing career and began pastoring Full Gospel Tabernacle in Memphis, Tennessee.

For eight years, he sang only gospel until he sensed God give him the green light to sing his old songs. Today, the soul man still puts on the pizzazz in mainstream venues. Resplendent in his white suit and Ray Ban sunglasses, and loaded with long stem roses like a florist, he still has the magic to commandeer the human heart, making it pulse in romance or worship—our very own funky St. Valentine.

“Now I am comfortable mixing everything up, and my audience has responded favorably,” he told the Los Angeles Times several years ago. “When I finished a short prayer at this gig…, people stood up and cheered. That told me that I could give audiences a little bit of the Reverend and they’d likely rejoice.” He sings “Amazing Grace” in casino showrooms in Las Vegas and Lake Tahoe, knowing that many of his admirers hunger for redemption just as he once had.

Full Gospel Tabernacle’s unassuming geodesic sanctuary is tucked in on the side of a quiet residential road, a few miles south of Graceland, off Elvis Presley Boulevard. It has played host to a myriad of music fans who make it a part of their Memphis pilgrimage. They stick out like sore thumbs, showing up promptly at 11 a.m. for a service that will not start for another half-hour. One Sunday while I was visiting, they appeared from Ireland, Arkansas, Nebraska, Minnesota, North Carolina, and England.

The visitors are greeted warmly. After all these years, the congregation has become very familiar with the novelty factor involved with having a musical icon behind the pulpit. Nevertheless, they are here to get down with God, not impress the guests (for example, there are none of Green’s Greatest Hits collections sold in the church lobby). The choir marches in and the B-3 Hammond organ starts to crank up the funk, while the electric guitar starts to wail.

Reverend Al walks around the sanctuary fiddling with his lapel microphone, gently patting visitors on the shoulder as he glides to the back of the sanctuary to adjust his own sound at the mixing board.

Back at the pulpit, Reverend Al is feeling the “unction of the Holy Ghost,” as he calls it. He starts to bob and weave like a boxer as he delivers his sermon on faith. “Hold on, God is coming!” he shouts. “Help is on the way,” he purrs. When he calls for the assembly to give a wave offering by lifting our arms, you can see the nervousness rise in the visitors. Awkwardly, we wave our arms in the air. Who is going to refuse Reverend Al? “Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Jesus! Stop looking at Al Green,” he says. “Al Green himself came to worship God. He’s been soooo good to me,” he starts to sing as the musicians crank up the volume.

When he starts singing “One Day at a Time, Sweet Jesus,” you know you have been to church. “You are not here by accident,” he says. “I am the same person you heard sing all those songs, but I am not the same person,” he testifies. “I couldn’t preach for 25 years if something didn’t happen to me.” Speaking to the visitors with a winsome grin, he says, “Come and see Al, but Al doesn’t hold the key to your salvation. I can sing ‘Love and Happiness’ four times and I still will not hold your salvation.”

The Reverend closes out the 11 o’clock service at 1:25 p.m. with a soul-felt version of “Gonna Sit Down on the Banks of the River” by blues legend Reverend Gary Davis. He leaves us at the banks, and the decision is ours. Shall we jump in or walk away? You can tell what Green has done. You can see it in his eyes, in his smile, in the intonations of his honey-like voice.

Otis Redding died in a plane crash at 26, Sam Cooke was shot at 33, Jackie Wilson’s career was over at 41, and Marvin Gaye was killed by his father at 44. Al Green is alive—and he is grateful. Somebody shout, Amen!

It is one thing to sing about love and happiness; it is an entirely different enterprise to experience it. As he grabs hold of the pulpit, festooned in his preaching robe, you can see it on his face. He arrived at the river’s edge and took a dive into faith. He looks up at us with a grin and seems to say, “Hop in. The water’s fine.”

Steve Beard is the creator and editor of Thunderstruck.org.

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