by Kerry Tankard.
I grew up as a white male teenager in the 1980s. Musically the early 80s charts were a mixed bag of blandness, drivel pop, middle of the road and adult orientated rock and popular new romanticism. The musical rebellion of 70s youth had dissipated, many of the bands gone or produced to the point of mediocrity. There were the undercurrents of emerging electronica, new-wave, goth, and anarcho-punk (for those of us interested), but these were not mainstream. In the mid 80s, Creation records and other independent labels would deliver something quite liberating for those of us who were disillusioned by the charts. Indie music labels fought to give us different expressions of music, bands emerged, and new movements stirred, my favourites inspired by the discovery of late 60s psychedelia and, crucially, the Velvet Underground. Our mentor, and prophet, was John Peel and his seemingly infinite catalogue of new music posted to him by labels and bands alike.
What the bands we were introduced to had in common was an imperfection exceeded by their intention to reframe guitar music. One home for such bands was Creation, founded by Alan McGee.[i] You may not know the label, or the man, but you will have been impinged by the label’s output during its latter success with some band called Oasis, whose average lyrics and musicality was far exceeded by their swagger, personalities, and Magee’s belief in them. For me, however, it was the bands that came before: The Jesus and Mary Chain, The House of Love, My Bloody Valentine, Ride and Slowdive, to name a few.
The Jesus and Mary Chain’s first single was created by 4 men whose musical ability was so limited the bassist only had 2 strings, as that was all he could manage to play; the drummer, Bobbie Gilespie, banged a snare and tenor drum; a painfully shy vocalist, Jim Ried, plied his lyrical beginnings; and lead guitarist William Reid, Jim’s brother, masked his shyness and lack of competency with an astounding amp destroying noise. William, when placed in front of an amp, created a noise that became legendary. In the studio, guitar noise overlayed guitar noise and when that was recorded several times, feedback was overlayed on the guitar noise. When William, disappointed by the early mix of their first single Upside Down, was let loose on the mixing desk he cranked the guitar and feedback channels up to max! All of this would sound horrific to sensitive ears, but to those hungry for a new sound this was joy manifest. It was a transcendent assault, and we were overjoyed.
What is the theological significance of all this musical rambling? It is in the simplicity of what was being offered. This was not a band of accomplished musicians, it was not production from which all imperfection had been eradicated, but an offering of four people’s souls and hopes, dreams and memories, passions and desires, failings and faults. It was their attempt to offer guitar music in a way that would disrupt the present and offer a revisioning of what was possible. It was the very real honesty and provocation of their recordings, their primal aural brutality, that was so incredible. It was unpalatable to the daytime Radio 1 audience, never mind its mature Radio 2 sister, but it made sense to those who were searching. Its hope, at the time, lay not in mass appeal but in faithful manifestation. In Church terms, it was John Wesley disrupting his communion into something new; it was Walter Brueggemann’s call on the Church to offer a counterimagination,[ii] and embrace, rather than domesticate, its oddness.
Don’t get me wrong, some/many of those indie bands, and labels, had an aspiration for global appreciation, while lacking the resources and popular accessibly to achieve it. They also had a subversive streak that was determined in the early days to put authenticity and art before bland acceptance. Creation enabled this, though seldom successfully. The great divide between the indies and the major labels was in the desire not always to be popular, or acceptable, but to be true to what they were doing and creating, and to where that creation came from.
In an age where it feels that people are searching for ways to make a church that works for the populus, I wonder if there is something to be said for a call to the minority world of the “indies”. This is not a call for the deconstruction of connexionalism, and a sinking into congregationalism, but it is a question about whether Methodism is better manifesting an 80s indie music mentality rather than a major label corporate blandness. It may not make us popular, or grant us mass appeal, but it could suggest a truthfulness and authenticity about who we are; a place where the offering is real, pure and flawed, but faithful, and hopefully graced by feedback!
For Reflection:
What is your experience of being different? Why did you feel different, was it important, and how was that affirmed, or not, by others?
What is better for the Church – to be popular and successful, or to be marginal and “indie”?
[i] If you really want to know more, check out David Cavnagh’s, The Creation Records Story: My Magpie Eyes are Hungry For The Prize.
[ii] Cf. Walter Brueggemann, Disruptive Grace. This collection of essays explores the themes of Disruptive Grace, embracing the oddness of Christian worship, and our call to offer, explore, and practice a counterimagination.
Theology Everywhere 