The Devil's music they called it. The Blues bedded Bluegrass to conceive rock and roll, and God-fearing folk were outraged. Convinced this new music had come to steal the souls of America's youth, the devout railed against the voodoo beat, urging young people back to their churches. In their righteousness, they failed to notice just how much this thumping and gyrating had in common with religious worship.
The puritans and Taliban aside, religious faiths have always used music in their rituals and gatherings. From the Whirling Dervishes, spinning themselves into trance, to the reverberating Gregorian plain song of the medieval monk, uplifting tones and repeated rhythms are an eternal and intrinsic part of the spiritual experience. Music is, by turns, narcotic, ethereal, arousing and transcendental. In truth, it would be astonishing if faiths didn't harness such a powerful effect to captivate their devotees.
The puritans and Taliban aside, religious faiths have always used music in their rituals and gatherings. From the Whirling Dervishes, spinning themselves into trance, to the reverberating Gregorian plain song of the medieval monk, uplifting tones and repeated rhythms are an eternal and intrinsic part of the spiritual experience. Music is, by turns, narcotic, ethereal, arousing and transcendental. In truth, it would be astonishing if faiths didn't harness such a powerful effect to captivate their devotees.
But this is a two way street. Artists who create rock music seem, by nature, to chase the transformed mind. The lazy observer assumes this is always pursued through drugs and booze, but alongside orgiastic partying, rock stars have frequently travelled a parallel, religious road.
Promoting the album 'Slow Train Coming', Bob Dylan declared to audiences he was 'no prophet'. On the face of it, he was making a determined effort to reject the messianic status thrust on him by overly ardent followers. However, he was also confirming his conversion to evangelical Christianity. Perhaps when one is constantly faced with disciples demanding existential answers (and accusations of 'Judas!' when one fails to deliver), it's easier to pass the responsibility to a real prophet, than to carry such a heavy burden.
Promoting the album 'Slow Train Coming', Bob Dylan declared to audiences he was 'no prophet'. On the face of it, he was making a determined effort to reject the messianic status thrust on him by overly ardent followers. However, he was also confirming his conversion to evangelical Christianity. Perhaps when one is constantly faced with disciples demanding existential answers (and accusations of 'Judas!' when one fails to deliver), it's easier to pass the responsibility to a real prophet, than to carry such a heavy burden.
Interestingly, the adoption of Christianity is almost a radical move in rock and roll terms. When, in 1968, The Beatles made their first trip to meet the Maharishi Yogi in India, the hip and the hippies nodded approvingly. The journey was perceived as an extension of the psychedelic adventuring the band had already undertaken. Meditation was suitably 'far out' and blessed garlands reflected their flower power pacifism. Had the Fabs announced an Italian trip to study Roman Catholicism, the reaction would have been very different.
Equally, Jim Morrison's shamanic convulsions were bang on the counter-cultural button in a way a Baptist sermon could never be.
So while religion can stroll comfortably with rock music, the demand tends to be for the exotic or Eastern faiths. Of course, many of these belief systems would counsel against the excesses of the rock lifestyle, but it's somehow easier to blend religion with a cultivated, rock star mystique, if that religion is imported from faraway lands (or in The Stones' case, the bowels of Hell).
When Tina Turner explains her devotion to Buddhism, her words pass without comment. But Cliff Richard's beliefs have hampered his credibility for decades. Fans will accept a star's religious dalliance, but prefer it not to be Christian; largely because it was evangelist objectors who tried so hard to extinguish rock and roll in its infancy. As the official religion of the UK and America, Christianity is just too conservative and too 'straight' to sit comfortably with rock's eternal rebel yell.
Unless we're talking about the enormously successful, but largely invisible industry that is Christian Rock.
Because of its segregated nature, I know almost nothing about this strain of pop.
Nevertheless, the industry is worth £200m annually in the UK. Delirious? a Christian rock band from Littlehampton frequently outsell Green Day and REM in the USA, but do very little business in their home country. They have made BBC daytime playlists on just one occasion and consequently remain largely unknown. There is no convincing reason for the act being so overlooked, other than their overtly Christian
lyrics, which are just too 'up front' for British tastes. Of course, artists like Prince and Michael Jackson made no secret of their Jehovah's Witness affiliations, but were commercially astute enough to keep them away from their songs. Rightly or wrongly, in the UK at least, Christianity just doesn't shift units.
There's little doubt an artist's religious conversion genuinely impacts both our feelings towards them, and their subsequent career. Cat Stevens, following a near-death experience in 1977, converted to Islam and took the name Yusuf Islam. Convinced his beliefs were incompatible with popular music, he sold his guitars in 1979. For more than thirty years, a scathing view of his decision perpetuated. Stevens had abandoned music for religion and many in the industry found that hard to understand or forgive. A controversial interview about the Salman Rushdie affair sealed his tarnished reputation but a return to pop music in 2006 brought his original admirers straight back to him, as well as attracting new listeners.
So while religion can stroll comfortably with rock music, the demand tends to be for the exotic or Eastern faiths. Of course, many of these belief systems would counsel against the excesses of the rock lifestyle, but it's somehow easier to blend religion with a cultivated, rock star mystique, if that religion is imported from faraway lands (or in The Stones' case, the bowels of Hell).
When Tina Turner explains her devotion to Buddhism, her words pass without comment. But Cliff Richard's beliefs have hampered his credibility for decades. Fans will accept a star's religious dalliance, but prefer it not to be Christian; largely because it was evangelist objectors who tried so hard to extinguish rock and roll in its infancy. As the official religion of the UK and America, Christianity is just too conservative and too 'straight' to sit comfortably with rock's eternal rebel yell.
Unless we're talking about the enormously successful, but largely invisible industry that is Christian Rock.
Because of its segregated nature, I know almost nothing about this strain of pop.
Nevertheless, the industry is worth £200m annually in the UK. Delirious? a Christian rock band from Littlehampton frequently outsell Green Day and REM in the USA, but do very little business in their home country. They have made BBC daytime playlists on just one occasion and consequently remain largely unknown. There is no convincing reason for the act being so overlooked, other than their overtly Christian
lyrics, which are just too 'up front' for British tastes. Of course, artists like Prince and Michael Jackson made no secret of their Jehovah's Witness affiliations, but were commercially astute enough to keep them away from their songs. Rightly or wrongly, in the UK at least, Christianity just doesn't shift units.
There's little doubt an artist's religious conversion genuinely impacts both our feelings towards them, and their subsequent career. Cat Stevens, following a near-death experience in 1977, converted to Islam and took the name Yusuf Islam. Convinced his beliefs were incompatible with popular music, he sold his guitars in 1979. For more than thirty years, a scathing view of his decision perpetuated. Stevens had abandoned music for religion and many in the industry found that hard to understand or forgive. A controversial interview about the Salman Rushdie affair sealed his tarnished reputation but a return to pop music in 2006 brought his original admirers straight back to him, as well as attracting new listeners.
Yusuf's case is significant because his transformation was absolute. He adopted faith completely, rather than flirting with a few of its ideas - and that proved a little too overwhelming for a secular public. In rock music, toying with religious belief is far more common than total conversion. We've already touched on Dylan's Christianity, but however sincere his Christian revelation, he went on to embrace Judaism with a similar enthusiasm. For every Brandon Flowers (a committed Mormon), there's a David Bowie on his knees praying for Freddie Mercury, or a Boy George, bouncing around with a Hindu face mark. Not unlike hard drugs, we're quite excited when a star experiments with spirituality, but we'd prefer they moved on quite rapidly, before any damage is done.
Having established that music enjoys a fling with religion, it's worth considering whether any particular genres are more prone to its appeal than others. The only punk act to undergo a conversion, as far as I can recall, is the late Poly Styrene, who became a devotee of the Hare Krishna movement after X-Ray Spex split. It's likely all that nihilism and 'I am an anti-Christ' became a barrier to every punk but Poly. But if you were in a famous punk outfit and are now a Shinto priest, perhaps you'd let us know?
Surprisingly, there seems to be a substantial collection of religious heavy metal bands, with wonderful names like Place of Skulls, I Am Terrified and Stryper (album title: To Hell With The Devil). Hip-hop also hosts a seam of religious rappers, but as with the metal crews, they are a niche, rather than famous headliners.
Soul music is a different matter, and understandably so.
The roots of soul are planted firmly in the gospel choirs of the American Pentecostal churches - where the soaring voices of Solomon Burke, Aretha Franklin and Dionne Warwick translated seamlessly from praising God, to songs of more earthly love and heartache. Without those energetic, lung busting services of praise, there would certainly have been no career for Marvin Gaye, (Reverend) Al Green or Little Richard.
Hang on! Little Richard? The man in the pink suit and pencil moustache? The musician often credited with actually inventing rock and roll and obviously and flamboyantly gay? One of the ringleaders of that original heinous, satanic noise? Yes indeed. He's a born-again Christian.
And with a true star like that on the Lord's side, we can only have sympathy for the Devil.
Having established that music enjoys a fling with religion, it's worth considering whether any particular genres are more prone to its appeal than others. The only punk act to undergo a conversion, as far as I can recall, is the late Poly Styrene, who became a devotee of the Hare Krishna movement after X-Ray Spex split. It's likely all that nihilism and 'I am an anti-Christ' became a barrier to every punk but Poly. But if you were in a famous punk outfit and are now a Shinto priest, perhaps you'd let us know?
Surprisingly, there seems to be a substantial collection of religious heavy metal bands, with wonderful names like Place of Skulls, I Am Terrified and Stryper (album title: To Hell With The Devil). Hip-hop also hosts a seam of religious rappers, but as with the metal crews, they are a niche, rather than famous headliners.
Soul music is a different matter, and understandably so.
The roots of soul are planted firmly in the gospel choirs of the American Pentecostal churches - where the soaring voices of Solomon Burke, Aretha Franklin and Dionne Warwick translated seamlessly from praising God, to songs of more earthly love and heartache. Without those energetic, lung busting services of praise, there would certainly have been no career for Marvin Gaye, (Reverend) Al Green or Little Richard.
Hang on! Little Richard? The man in the pink suit and pencil moustache? The musician often credited with actually inventing rock and roll and obviously and flamboyantly gay? One of the ringleaders of that original heinous, satanic noise? Yes indeed. He's a born-again Christian.
And with a true star like that on the Lord's side, we can only have sympathy for the Devil.
