I got to experience this...and so much more...at a concert in Portland on Friday night.
The idea to go was spurned months ago during an email exchange with my dear friend of nearly three decades, Zeke. A confirmed music snob and atheist, Zeke was lovingly teasing me about my occasionally listening to Christian music. I admitted that while the music isn't terribly complex or ground-breaking, the words are often inspiring and just what I need at just the right moment. I then joked that if he really wanted to experience the power of Christian music, he should join me in attending an annual concert tour that I knew always made its way through Portland but had never thought to attend.
Well, the joke was on me when Zeke replied, "Capital-R Religion combined with testosterone-fueled anthems?! I'm game."
Five months later, Zeke and I found ourselves sitting in Section 111, Seats 14 and 15, surrounded by believers and not quite sure what was about to happen. It turned out to be a surprisingly fun night, for both of us.
Last summer at The Fair, I attended a concert by a local Christian band. I went to hear one song, which of course wasn't played until the end. But from that hour and a half, I got a glimpse of what to expect from a Christian rock concert: Clean-cut performers; catchy, poppy music accessible to all ages; spiritual lyrics; lots of hand-raising in the stands; Bible verses sprinkled liberally throughout the between-songs banter; and a feeling at the end as if I had attended a church service. With eight bands on Friday's line-up, I was trying to prepare for worship overload. I really thought I knew what to expect. I certainly didn't expect this:
I also didn't expect the country band. Or the rappers. I didn't expect the hip hop guy from New York, and I most certainly didn't expect to enjoy him to the point of buying his CD (now on order from Amazon). I have never in my life wanted to listen to hip hop until this guy on a skateboard wheeled up to the microphone. As Zeke noted, it was rather refreshing that the hip hop guy didn't have the seemingly requisite inflated ego that usually accompanies that genre. Instead, he "gave it all to God" and actually made me care what he was hipping and hopping about. Huh.
The southern-rock band with the lead singer who looked suspiciously like Designer Jeans Jesus with a tambourine was perhaps the most "mainstream" of the bands. Catchy, classic rock sounds with a positive message that both kids and parents sang along and jumped to.
THE headliner, though, was something else altogether. There was great build-up to the band throughout the concert. Despite their advanced ages (I'm guessing early-mid 40s), the members of the band were undeniably the coolest, hippest, edgiest of the night. They admitted their band name was stupid and begged us not to Tweet them about it. With all the other bands named with the Bible or Jesus in mind (e.g. Third Day, Soulfire Revolution, The Neverclaim ("We never want to claim God's glory as our own")), the grand finale band had a different story.
"We named ourselves after a frying pan. What can I say?"
With that, Skillet electrified the arena.
We were so close to a speaker, neither Zeke nor I could make out any words other than "I'M SICK OF IT!!!" and "I FEEL LIKE A MONSTER!!!" These phrases were screamed, repeatedly, in amongst the seizure-inducing strobe lights, the steam explosions, and the guitarists on hydraulic platforms.
As I watched, I was mesmerized by how '80s the band was, how it reminded me of the decidedly secular music of my adolescence. Skillet's lead singer was wearing black eyeliner, the violinists were wearing lab coats that made me think of Thomas Dolby, and one of the guitarists was a hard-rockin' gal with blonde hair and a presence reminiscent of lead singers from 'Til Tuesday, A Flock of Seagulls, and The Plasmatics. But none of Skillet's target demo know this...or those bands.
The music was full of power and angst. It recessed and swelled to build emotion. Checking the lyrics later, they spoke directly into the heart of every teenager there. It was absolutely brilliant.
I concluded that Skillet is the John Hughes of Christian rock bands. If Sixteen Candles had been about a confirmation, or if The Breakfast Club's confessionals had been made to a priest, Skillet would have been the background music. If I were 30 years younger, I would have been screaming in anticipation of Skillet, too.
As we left the arena, we agreed we should have brought earplugs. We also agreed that the concert was surprisingly much like any other arena concert we had attended, just with a different message. However, the crowd was a bit different. There were people of all ages: lots of families, several church youth groups, retired couples and grandparents, teens on dates.
One of my favorite images is of watching a 50-something overweight balding dad jumping up and down next to his teen son and tween daughter. They all had huge smiles, experiencing a moment together that I can assure you was nothing like any memory I have from Depeche Mode or Thompson Twins concerts. I would have died before attending those concerts with my parents, let alone dancing with them.
The crowd was also more obedient and engaged than any other concert I've been to. If the lead singer said to clap, they clapped. Time to raise your arms, up went the arms. Sway back and forth? On it. Sing along? Already doing it.
Zeke and I participated as we felt comfortable, without any judgment or annoying encouragement from anyone around us. As a rather restrained, undemonstrative church and concert goer, I was a little nervous I might feel awkward surrounded by enthusiasm. Much to my relief, I realized I was comfy just being me.
When we got home, Zeke and I proudly displayed our matching commemorative t-shirts for Rob. When we met as college freshmen so many years ago, Zeke and I would have guffawed in hysterics if someone had prophesized our evening at a Christian rock concert. And yet, with mutual respect and a shared love for new adventures, it makes perfect sense.
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