Tag Archive: Bible


Treasures

Peter Gabriel - Melt - 5/23/1980

Peter Gabriel – Melt – 5/23/1980

I have no idea what I would do if someone broke into my house. The closest it ever got to that was when a woman knocked on our sliding glass door at about 2am. My wife heard it first. Scared out of her wits, she tried to look up the police – we didn’t have smartphones yet, and the idea of calling 911 apparently didn’t penetrate either of our 2am hazes. I had to deal with the potential intruder. It was a short black woman with wide eyes and no shoes, definitely drunk. Clearly not a robber, she was saying something to me that took me a few tries to figure out. She thought I was a friend of hers, Bernie or something, and she wanted to sleep there for the night. I told her in no uncertain terms to go away. I don’t think my wife or I slept much after that.

As traumatic as that was, it’s not even a thousandth of what it must be like to have an actual intruder in your house, one with evil intent to your possessions. It’s something no one ever wants to think about.

Unless you’re Peter Gabriel, that is. And if you’re Peter Gabriel, not only do you like thinking about it, but you like forcing your listeners to think about it, too. “Intruder” leads off PG’s third eponymous album commonly called Melt, with plodding and doom-filled drumming, then what sounds like glass being delicately cracked, like a window that’s being broken as quietly as possible.

Peter sings this song like a sociopathic lunatic, provoking a reaction of tension-filled dread from the listener. Like Hannibal Lecter’s icy, smiling stare, it’s the quietness of Peter’s voice punctuated by moments of frothing madness that make for the most terror. “Intruder” is one of the most terrifying songs I’ve ever heard, bested in that department only by Bach and his “Toccata & Fugue.”

When I visited my family a few Christmases ago, the men had a discussion about intruders (which is to say they had the discussion and I listened silently), which led into gun control. My brother-in-law, who was going through a gun-crazy phase at the time, wanted to acquire a classic, noisy shotgun. He had a theory that if anyone ever broke into his house, all they would have to hear was the loud CLICK-CLACK of a cocking shotgun and they would high-tail it out of there, but not before making a mess on your floor. He said the gun wouldn’t even have to be loaded, because all you need is the sound to get the intruder shaking in his probably stolen boots.

I think there’s something to that, but like I always do, I’m looking for the root. If you want a shotgun to ward off intruders, you obviously think it’s a real possibility that you will at some point have an intruder. Delusion and paranoia are extremely likely, but let’s assume that attitude has a basis in reality. What is that basis? Do you have a lot of valuable stuff that would attract an intruder? A fancy car, an opulent house, an unnecessarily loud stereo system? Why do you have those? Greed? Inadequacy? A need to feel successful?

Religion would classify those things as “treasures,” and my religion teaches me that where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. In a sort of pre-emptive strike, Jesus said to “store up your treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and thieves do no break in and steal.” In short, don’t have too much stuff. Why? ‘Cause having too much stuff chains you to this world, and that’s not where you wanna be forever. (Matthew 6:19-21)

But enough of that.

Peter Gabriel adherents had never really heard anything like “Intruder” from him. It was a revelation of one of Peter’s abilities, one that had only been touched briefly upon with The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway. It’s the ability to show you extremely strange and horrifying images and make you want to keep staring at them. Previously, he had done this with fantasy and fiction, but with Melt, he was making you look at the real world. “Intruder,” “Family Snapshot,” and “Biko” deal with fully real moments of violent horror and what they mean to your actual life. No more hiding behind constructs like Blackstone Enterprises or Magog or even Rael, as transparent as he was. Now, it’s just Peter.

Next: portrait of a killer.

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Two figures mentioned on the second disc of The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway are the Lilywhite Lilith and the Lamia, both having their own songs. These are two figures that come from Jewish mythology, but my first experience with them doesn’t come from either Genesis or Judaism. It comes from Final Fantasy II.

Lilith and Lamia were two random enemies you could fight in that game. They’re snake-like enemies with the power to charm your party members, making them attack your other party members without your control. The two enemies use the same graphic but different color palettes. They apparently have other permutations in other games from the series, but I know them from II.

Lilith (L) and Lamia (R)

Lilith (L) and Lamia (R)

Aside – Final Fantasy II is really Final Fantasy IV, but since the actual II, III and V were originally only released in Japan, American markets used to call it Final Fantasy II even though it was really IV, and the same is true for VI (they called it III). Okay, nerd moment over.

It would have been much more erudite and scholarly for me to first tell you about how Lilith and the Lamia are figures from mythology. I guess that’s one more opportunity missed. Nevertheless, the idea of Lilith comes from Jewish mysticism, and she was the original mate created for Adam. Unlike Eve, who was created from one of Adam’s ribs, Lilith was created at the same time and from the same earth as Adam. According to the legend, which first appeared in Jewish texts during the Middle Ages, she left Adam before the creation of Eve because she refused to submit to his authority. She left the Garden of Eden for good, and mated with the archangel Samael, who is known in Jewish traditions as the Angel of Death. Samael is where the iconic image of the Grim Reaper comes from. Lilith really traded up, lemme tell ya…

If you’re my age but didn’t have a love of Final Fantasy II when you were a kid, you might still know Lilith from the Lilith Fair, Sarah McLachlan’s estrogen-fueled festival from the late ’90s. The summer music festival featured a roster of all female performers or female-fronted bands. McLachlan founded the Lilith Fair in 1997 (with a bunch of men) to give woman fans an opportunity to spend all that disposable income. The male business executives McLachlan approached were all too eager to tap that market, drooling and slathering as they were.

The festival had an undercurrent of “Men suck! Lesbians rule!” to it, but it had a very impressive array of female artists on the bill. It had three stages going at the same time, and nearly every female artist or female-fronted band of note from the past 20 years was featured. Most of the stars were of the girl-strumming-an-acoustic-guitar variety, singing about their journey of self-discovery and the men who’ve impeded it. But it stuck to its mission statement, which was to give female artists a voice. All that was required to play the festival was a vagina, musical style notwithstanding.

The lamia is a creature from Greek myth, originally the beautiful queen of Libya in northern Africa. She became a child-devouring demon, at which point she mutated into a snake-like hybrid. The lamia is classically described as having the upper body of a beautiful human woman who becomes a serpent from the waist down. The word “lamia” comes from the Greek word from “gullet,” referring to her propensity for eating children. Lamia is sometimes identified as the daughter of Poseidon.

The Lamia

The lamia

Over the years, the legend of the lamia became something European mothers used to frighten their children into obedience. “If you’re bad, the lamia will get ya.” In the original Greek myth, Lamia is a mother driven mad by the deaths of her children. Zeus tries to placate her by giving her the gift of prophecy, but she becomes a monster, taking revenge on mothers who still have their children by devouring them. It’s pretty awful.

Interestingly enough, they share something in common. In the Bible, the book of Isaiah features 39 chapters all about how nation-states who oppose or disobey God are in for a real bad time, right before 27 chapters of how God’s kingdom will one day be restored and everything will be cool. In Isaiah 34, there is talk of the land of Edom and how screwed it is. In it, Isaiah lists a bunch of animals that are unclean, most likely with demonic associations. “Lilith” is among them, but in the Latin Vulgate, the word “lilith” is translated as “lamia.” Quite obviously, neither Lilith nor the lamia originate from the Hebrew Bible, but come from ancient mythology. Lilith even goes back to the Epic of Gilgamesh, composed in 600 BC, long before Isaiah was written.

Do you care? I thought not. Back to Genesis!

Next at AO: costumes are awesome…ly horrible.

Pink Floyd’s journey through madness takes us to a brief segue from the end of “Time” (which is actually “Breathe (Reprise)”) into a gentle piano, the intro to “The Great Gig In the Sky.” Over the piano is laid a snippet from one of the interviews Roger Waters did during the album’s production. It speaks of how you shouldn’t be frightened of dying, and “any time will do.” These wise words come from Gerry O’Driscoll, the Abbey Road Studios janitor.

The only vocals on the whole track (other than the interview snippets) are those of Clare Torry, a vocalist that engineer Alan Parsons suggested. Clare wasn’t enthusiastic about it, since she was not a fan of Pink Floyd. It didn’t really get better for her when she agreed to come to the studio, as the members of Pink Floyd didn’t really give her anything to do; they themselves didn’t even know what they wanted. So she just said to herself, “Maybe I should just pretend I’m an instrument.” She did two and a half takes, stopping in the middle of the third because she felt it wasn’t working and that she was repeating herself. But while she was losing confidence in herself, the members of Floyd and the production team were simply blown away. It turned out to be one of the highlights of the album, and even to this day her performance is amazing.

Despite the absence of lyrics, “The Great Gig In the Sky” deals with death and mortality. Death is scary at first, but so much of its bluster and noise is man-made. Something’s only scary if someone’s scared of it. Like “On the Run,” “Great Gig” shouldn’t be strictly thought of as a song, but a wordless piece of art that evokes a feeling without spelling it out for you. There’s a pigeonholing of music that says that only the words of a song can be about something. That’s an extremely limited way of thinking, and The Dark Side of the Moon proves that it doesn’t have to be that way.

The vinyl flip brings more sound effects, these ones from an old-style cash register. The song “Money” is a crunchy, groovy piece of rock in the novel 7/8 time signature. The odd time puts the listener a little off balance, particularly because “Money” is plodding and a little machine-like. When the guitar solo comes, though, it switches to 4/4 in order to make guitarist David Gilmour’s life easier.

The lyrics talk about the excesses money can bring, but more poignantly about selfishness. “Share it fairly but don’t take a slice of my pie.” They also make a rather infuriating mistake with the line, “Money, so they say, is the root of all evil today.”

Money is not the root of all evil. There is a great misconception out there that somehow the cause of all our problems is money, but that’s just not the case. Never mind that it’s ridiculous to focus on the badness of money and forget things like power, sex and self-gratification. It’s also ridiculous to say that an inanimate object could be the source of an exclusively human problem. No, the reason horrible things are done in the name of makin’ that dollar is not money itself; it’s us.

Jesus didn’t say money was the root of all evil, but a great many people think he did. In fact, one of the only things Jesus had to say about the subject was “render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s, and render unto God what is God’s,” which basically means stop whining, pay your taxes, and get back to doing God’s work. The “root of all evil” thing is actually from the Bible, but not only doesn’t Jesus say it (Paul does), but instead of money, it’s love of money. The Bible talks a lot about splitting your loyalties and how you shouldn’t do it. You can’t serve two masters because you’ll hate one and love the other, and that includes money.

Pink Floyd has a similarly cautious approach to money here, not wanting to delve into the excesses that commonly follow success. Money can quickly become an obsession, and that leads to paranoia and madness, which is Floyd’s central theme on Dark Side. But it’s ironic that “Money,” a song that speaks very jadedly about monetary success, was Pink Floyd’s breakout hit and their first taste of the very thing “Money” cautions against. And with the Floyd’s next album, Wish You Were Here, they lament about the hole that money and “Money” got them into. And they didn’t really get themselves out of it until 20 years later with their final album, The Division Bell.

Next: “Us and Them” and the balance between the ugly and the beautiful.

“How Dare I Be So Beautiful?,”  the fourth section of “Supper’s Ready,” is quiet and sibilant, almost rhythm-less due to the absence of any percussion. It ends without resolution, and then the fifth section jarringly crashes in like the Kool-Aid man barreling through the wall. “Willow Farm” is conspicuously opposite of the section before it – loud, bizarre and madness-driven. Peter Gabriel sings with just a hint of insanity. When “Willow Farm” is performed live, Peter’s showmanship is cranked to 11; he struts around the stage wearing his famous flower mask, his head made to look like the stigma. The music reminds me of a demented carnival, and the lyrics have a Lewis Carroll-like childishness to them, sort of like a Cockney rhyming scheme. “There’s Winston Churchill dressed in drag! He used to be a British flag! Plastic bag! What a drag!”

As to what the song is about, its twisted logic makes it difficult to discern. As far as I can tell, it’s about a sort of camp or retreat center like a fat farm, where people pay to go and be morphed into something else – fat to skinny, man to woman, animal to plant, living to dead and back again. Willow Farm is like a psychotic Jenny Craig’s. It’s Peter Gabriel’s first exploration of the transmutation of things (changing from one form to another), which will be a centerpiece of Genesis’ 1974 concept album, The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway.

“Supper’s Ready,” being Genesis’ greatest musical achievement, has as its subject the biggest topic they’ve tackled yet – the end of the world and the salvation of mankind, a parallel to the book of Revelation with a Genesis flare. While we’ve had hints of it previously, this motif gets its grandest and most high-stakes treatment with the next section, “Apocalypse In 9/8.”

Peter Gabriel as Magog

It starts on an eerie tone with a flute solo from Peter, the second on this track. In the live performances, however, the solo is played on a synthesizer while Peter goes backstage to don another of his most famous costumes, Magog. “Apocalypse In 9/8” is filled with tension that’s simply electric, briught on by it being played in not one but two time signatures. Most of the band is playing in 9/8, like the title indicates, but Tony Banks is playing the keyboards in 4/4. The entire band is playing at the same tempo, but thanks to mathematics, Phil, Steve and Mike get more and more out of step with Tony. For the first 8 beats, it’s all cool, but by the 9th beat, Tony is already moving on to the beginning of the third measure while the rest of the band is just finishing up their first. But thankfully, math works like a circle, so eventually they come to a place where they’re all finishing their current measure at the same time.

I can sense your eyes glazing over, so I’ll move on – no need to thank me.

“dragons coming out of the sea”

Anyway, this section features imagery pulled (for the most part) directly from the book of Revelation. Magog, seven trumpets, dragons from the sea, and 666 are all references to that book of the Bible. Now, the lovers from the first part have come to where all the secrets are revealed, which is what the word apocalypse means.

“Apocalypse In 9/8” has the subtitle “Co-Starring the Delicious Talents of Gabble Ratchet.” Much has been made of this over the years (who is this Gabble Ratchet, and what makes his talents so delicious?), allow me to put it to rest. According to Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, Gabble Ratchet is not a person at all but another name for Gabriel’s Hounds, which is really just another name for wild geese.  You heard right. Legend says that the sound wild geese make is actually the souls of unbaptised children. Genesis uses a Mellatron sound effect of wild geese at the end of instrumental piece right before the second verse of “Apocalypse In 9/8.” Gabriel’s Hounds sharing a name with Peter Gabriel doesn’t hurt, too.

“Lord of Lords, King of Kings, has returned to lead His children home, to take them to the New Jerusalem”

Finally, there’s chimes and a drum roll, and a refrain of the chorus from “Lover’s Leap,” heralding the seventh and final section, “AS Sure As Eggs is Eggs (Aching Men’s Feet).” This is the completion of the cycle, and the final victory of good over evil. Evil has been having its day ever since “The Guaranteed Eternal Sanctuary Man,” but the Lord of Lords and King of Kings has finally returned, with absolute certainty, as sure as eggs is eggs. “Aching Men’s Feet” is yet another Cockney rhyme, this one meaning “making ends meet.” The music uses the melody of “The Guaranteed Eternal Sanctuary Man” in a more victorious and operatic motif. And thus, “Supper’s Ready” ends, 23 minutes after it started, with God taking his children to the New Jerusalem.

With a song as thick with imagery as this, me interpreting it for you would be (1) a mammoth task that would require its own blog, and (2) taking all the fun out of it for you. After all, this is one of the joys of music, and poetry, and paintings, and any kind of art: the ability of spectators to take part in the act of creation by creating their own interpretation. So now I’ve laid it out for you; have fun.

Next: You think 23 minutes is long? You ain’t seen nothin’…

Jesus People

According to my dad, my parents were NOT hippies – they were Jesus People. Hippies and Jesus People have a lot in common, like a mellow and positive attitude, a fashion sense that included bright colors, long tassels and hemp, and a liking for patchouli, most likely to cover up the odor of an unwashed body. But while hippies were very loose and open about spirituality, they were generally opposed to organized religion; they saw it as a way to keep people down.

Jesus People, on the other hand, found true freedom and liberation in Jesus Christ, something they didn’t find in the hippie culture, despite the advertisement of it. Hippies were wary of Jesus because of his association with Christianity, a thing of oppression (as they saw it). But Jesus People were much more interested in Christ as a person than they were in Christianity as a religion. They loved him. It is possible to be in love with someone who’s been dead for 2000 years, because to Jesus People (and to Christians in general) he’s not dead. He lives within each one of us, growing and improving us from the inside out. It’s like The Matrix – the concept can’t be fully explained; you have to see it for yourself.

Jesus People used to wear these buttons that said “One Way.” It refers to following Jesus as being the only way to heaven. When a member of the Jesus Movement saw a stranger that they thought might be a fellow Jesus Person, they would hold up their index finger (“one”). If the stranger did the same, they both knew that they had something in common, and that they would see each other again in heaven. It was like they shared a little secret, something the rest of the world wasn’t in on. It’s like when I was living in New York, regularly wearing my Red Sox cap on the streets of Manhattan. Most people didn’t care, but one time I saw another guy wearing the same cap and caught his eye. We exchanged no words, but gave each other a little nod and smile as I passed by.

It may seem like Jesus People were some exclusive organization with a rigorous membership process to weed out the fakers, but that’s not how it was. It’s important for us of this pluralistic generation to understand that Jesus People weren’t enforcing their individuality, or proclaiming their distinction from everybody else. They weren’t saying, “I’m different and I like that.” They were saying, “I’m saved, and you can be too!!!” The message of Jesus People was what the message of modern Christian evangelicalism should be: the more the merrier. And that should come without exceptions, addendums or provisos. This is an invitation regardless of race, gender or sexual orientation; if you have lungs and a beating heart, you can join this club.

As for Jesus People themselves, most of them grew up, got married and had kids, and generally settled down into a typical American existence. However, most of them (including both of my parents) never lost that zeal and passion for the word of God, or that all-or-nothing mentality that’s an essential part of their Christianity. And since both of my parents are such freakishly awesome people, it must not be a bad thing.

Even so, Jesus People are part of a bygone age, and their way of thinking about things is just different that ours today. They touted the “one way” philosophy, a thing that’s not only stuck around in Christianity but gotten more intense. While I’m certain that there’s only one road, Jesus’ road, I think that road might be a lot wider than a lot of Christians believe it is, or maybe than they want it to be.

I’m completely aware that people are gonna quote the “way is straight and narrow” verse from the Bible to me. Here’s my response. Jesus says in Matthew’s gospel, “…narrow [is] the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.” I posit that certain Christians would prefer it to be “only YOU guys find it, and screw everyone else.” It’s narrow, yes, but only in comparison to the other road, the one that leads to destruction, and the number of people who choose it. Perhaps another way of putting it is that those people aren’t even on a road; they’re lost in the forest being eaten by the bears. The only way for us to find them is to go into the forest and risk getting eaten by the bears ourselves.

Oh jeez. I try to write about Led Zeppelin and I end up preaching about evangelism. Sigh… more about IV next time.

I’ve said before that the hallmark of Beggars Banquet is the sound being stripped down like a flying gas can. Producer Jimmy Miller does an exceptional job of making this record organic and gut-based rather than contrived. The Stones are honest here, but not the emo kind of honest that makes you squirm in your seat. The honesty here is more brutal and cold, but delivered with a breezy, sleazy smile. With Their Satanic Majesties Request, the Rolling Stones had ceased their teen heartthrob aesthetic, but with Beggars Banquet, they replaced it with no-frills free will. Doing that, they became a fully fleshed out, fully adult band.

Rev. Robert Wilkins

“Prodigal Son” reveals that they’re no longer playing to a teenage crowd; teens wouldn’t have any interest in a blues guitar piece originally performed by a preacher that draws its lyrics straight from the Bible. If you want to talk about stripped-down, “Prodigal Son” is quintessential. There’s really nothing more to this song than a quickly strummed acoustic guitar and a straight-up recital of the story of (you guessed it) the prodigal son. If you’re not familiar with it, read Luke 15.

Written by Robert Wilkins in the 1920s, it was originally called “That’s No Way to Get Along.” When Wilkins found religion in the ‘30s and became an ordained minister, he changed the “unholy” lyrics of the song to the similarly themed parable from Luke’s gospel, and changed the name to “Prodigal Son.” “Unholy” seems like the Rolling Stones’ stock in trade, but the cleaned-up, Biblical version is the one the Stones cover. I listened to the original, and I honestly don’t know what’s so unholy about it, but mostly because the recording is so bad that I can’t understand a blessed word of it except the refrain of “that’s no way for me to get along.”

“Factory Girl” continues the stripped-down theme; it’s an honest-to-God country Appalachian ballad. I appreciate the homey, community-based setting that generated it. It features guest musicians Dave Mason of Traffic, Ric Grech of Family, and frequent Stones percussionist Rocky Dijon. I can imagine all of them sitting in a circle, all very laid-back and mellow, playing their instruments laconically while groupies and hangers-on pass around a joint, the sweet smell of marijuana clouding the air. In truth, it’s a pretty groovy image.

The cap is “Salt of the Earth,” which has all the elements of a final flourish before bedding down for the night. In it, Keith Richards – who has an atrocious turn at lead vocals before turning it over to Jagger – proposes that the listeners “raise a glass” to the common folk who live ordinary lives every day. As the song progresses, it becomes clear that the tone of the entire song is derisive and sarcastic. It’s disarming because the music and vocal delivery is played relatively straight. Whether he’s doing it intentionally or not, Jagger reveals here that he’s really out of touch. He’s looking down from an ivory tower on the masses assembled at his feet; from his lofty perch, they all blur together and become meaningless, no longer human individuals. But there is a self-awareness in this song, too. Use of clichés like “two thousand million,” “till the earth,” and even “salt of the earth” let you know that Jagger knows full well that the reason he looks on those people with derision is that has to crane his neck down to even see them. He knows this, but the question is whether he has the motivation to change his view.

It reminds me of an episode early in the first season of The Big Bang Theory, when super-genius Sheldon goes with Penny to the supermarket. He has just lost his job as a prestigious researcher at Cal Tech, and until now has never worried himself with such mundane matters as grocery shopping. Interacting with people at the market, he looks on them with fond condescension. “And thank you, ordinary person!”

The Rolling Stones make a very good case here for becoming the best band in the world. That promise is more than lived up to in the next few years. They’d been held up from the beginning as a contrast to the Beatles; that band was already showing signs of tearing at the seams, so it’s only natural that the Stones would swoop in. Beggars Banquet puts them in swooping position; sloughing off the dead weight of Brian Jones (another bad pun…)served them well, even if the sloughing had a tragic end.  But they would only stay there until they themselves started to break down. By 1980, they stopped significantly contributing to rock and roll and became a parody of it. But for a few years, the Rolling Stones were actually residing in that ivory tower “Salt of the Earth” said they were.

New Year’s Eve, 1968. In the hills above L.A., some people are gathered around a campfire when a bearded man among them explains that a war between blacks and whites in America is coming. More than that, the people around the campfire are going to start that war. More than that, the people around the campfire will not only be saved from this war, but will come out on top once the war is over. More than that, this war has been prophesied, and the prophets are speaking directly to the people around the campfire in a coded message.

The bearded man: Charles Manson. The people around the campfire: the Manson Family. The prophets: the Beatles. The coded message: The White Album.

Manson called this race war “Helter Skelter,” after the Beatles song. It’s quite appropriate, because a “helter skelter,” in British slang, is a descent, usually pretty rapid and dramatic. Under Manson’s prediction, the whites would have a descent (being exterminated by the blacks), and then the blacks (being exterminated by the Manson family). In a larger sense, Manson meant “helter skelter” to mean that (pardon my French), “shit was gonna go down” – and Manson and his followers were going to start it.

But the most bizarre, freak-out thing in this entire scenario – aside from the brutal and devilish murders of Sharon Tate and company – is that Manson took his walking orders from The White Album. Manson believed – and his followers believed – that the Beatles were speaking directly and exclusively to them in subtle messages laced all over The White Album. Every song had a significance that applied only to Manson and his “family.” Among the more interesting ones:

“Blackbird” – Black people are going to “arise” and slaughter the whites.

“Rocky Raccoon” – “Coon” is a pejorative term for a black person, so Rocky is black. Rocky’s “revival” meant that black people were going to come into power soon. Further, the prominence of “Gideon’s Bible” in the song – more specifically the line “Gideon checked out” – meant that the entire scenario was told about in the book of Revelation.

“Revolution 1” – In the lyric “When you talk about destruction, don’t you know that you can count me out,” John includes a subtle “in” right after he sings the word “out.” This indicates – in reality – that John was actually undecided whether revolution was needed or not. In Manson’s mind, this indicated that the Beatles all favored violent revolution, but had to keep silent because they were on a “peace-and-love trip.”

“Happiness is a Warm Gun” – Black people are supposed to arm themselves with guns for violent revolution.

Linda Kasabian, Patricia Krenwinkel, and Susan “Sadie Mae” Atkins

“Sexy Sadie” – A reference to Manson follower Susan Atkins, who had been redubbed Sadie Mae Glutz even before The White Album had come out.

“Revolution 9” – Many things. Despite the fact that it’s a musical collage and thus has no lyrics, Manson thought he heard John shout “rise!” in several places (John was actually saying “right!”). The repeated words “number 9” are a reference to the ninth chapter of Revelation, which is when the “locusts” are released to torment mankind for five months. Also, Manson believed George was saying “Charlie, Charlie, send us a telegram,” which Manson and the other family members tried to do. In one section of the track, George actually does say something about a telegram.

“Honey Pie,” “I Will,” “Don’t Pass Me By,” and “Yer Blues” – The Beatles were searching and calling for Jesus Christ (because they love him). Manson had a huge Jesus Christ complex, believing himself to be the second coming of the man. Thus, the Beatles were calling for Charles Manson himself to join them in London. Manson family members were trying to get a message to the Beatles telling them to join Manson in Death Valley.

“Helter Skelter” – The whole thing in miniature. In the lyric “she’s comin’ down fast,” “she” would be America, and the “comin’ down” refers to the race war that the country will soon descend into. The song also contains a reference to the Manson family emerging from their supposed Death Valley underground hideout, which Manson called the Bottomless Pit (a reference to Revelation chapter 9).

 With his “The White Album is forecasting the future” thing, Manson is creating what’s called a self-fulfilling prophecy. He wants it to be true, so he’s going to make it true. Fortunately for everyone except Sharon Tate and the others who happened to be there the night of August 8th, he never got to. Manson, like the true megalomaniac he is, also thought the entire White Album was directed exclusively at him, that the Beatles were purposefully trying to tell him something in code. Once again, because he wanted it to be true, it was.

Let’s hope I can make this next comparison without being drawn and quartered by my fellow Christians.

Charles Manson started with a supposition and then found support for it in The White Album, despite the fact that support simply wasn’t there. Through creative arranging and sheer force of will, he made it say something that it just doesn’t say. He did the opposite of what scholars and seekers of truth do. He arrogantly supposed that his truth was more important than the truth his source (in this case The White Album) was trying to convey.

Is this not very similar to what we sometimes do with the Bible? The Bible, by the admission of the apostle Paul, was meant to teach us, rebuke us, correct us and train us (2 Timothy 3:16). It is NOT meant to be used as an irrational justification for what we already think. Yet this is what so many Christians do. They start with a firmly held belief that comes from themselves, search the Bible for a verse or passage that seems, without context, to support it, and then claim that that firmly held belief is biblical. This is NOT how we should read the Bible; we should actually do the opposite, as in start with the text, then earnestly seek the truth contained therein, and let your firmly held beliefs be formed and shaped by that truth.

We’ve seen it over and over again. “Hey, it’s not me; it’s the Bible.” The subjugation of women has “biblical” support, according to some complemetarians. Creationism has “biblical” support (and evolution suffers “biblical” refutation), according to hardline fundamentalists. And countless pastors have written books saying they have the key to a “biblical” marriage. You can find support in the Bible for any opinion you want.

In my mind, this is very similar to what Charles Manson did with The White Album. However, there are two notable differences. One is that Christians don’t use the Bible to support murder. Another – and one that makes what some Christians do even worse than what Charles Manson did – is that it’s easy to argue with The White Album. It’s much more perilous to argue with the Bible.

I’ll leave you with that.

Fate

George

“While My Guitar Gently Weeps” is the first of four George offerings on The White Album, and it’s centered on the Eastern idea that everything is connected. George decided he would let fate lead him by the nose on this one. He took a random book from his parents’ bookshelf, turned to a random page, and randomly picked two words from that page. The words he found were “gently weeps.” A song was born.

My skepticism wonders if it really went down like that, if “gently weeps” really came on George’s first try. He might have had to plow through about 50 books before he got to a combination of words he liked and could actually write a song about.

Just as an experiment, I took three random books from my bookcase and did the same thing. I came up with “and tell,” “you would,” and “man’s outstretched.” I can’t even force that to make grammatical sense, much less write a song about it. It reminds me of something I did as a naïve teenager (and probably something every Christian teenager does at some point). My mother’s “life verse” (the nugget of the Bible someone chooses to live their life by) is Psalm 1, verses 2 and 3. As a teen, I heard about my mother’s and other people’s life verses, and was frustrated that I didn’t have one myself. So I picked up my Bible, turned to a random page and said, “wherever my finger lands is gonna be my life verse” – just so you know, it didn’t stick.

Out of curiosity, I tried it again just now. My finger landed on 2 Kings 11, verse 5.

“This is what you must do. A third of you who are on duty on the Sabbath are to guard the royal palace itself.”

I guess when my pastor asks why I wasn’t in church on Sunday, I can just tell him “sorry, but the Bible told me to guard a royal palace on the Sabbath. You’re not gonna argue with the Bible, are you?” The takeaway: George’s method usually doesn’t work.

Yoko & John

The most bizarre moment on the first half of the record (we’ll get to the second half and “Revolution 9” later) is definitely “Happiness is a Warm Gun.” John made three song fragments he had written into a pastiche, all of them in some way about his desire and sexual preoccupation with Yoko Ono. It’s here on The White Album – and a little on the singles after Sgt. Pepper – that we start to see John moving into deeply personal material, yet still keeping it clouded in the obtuse and obscure. With the release of his breakout solo record, Plastic Ono Band, the cloud is lifted and we’re forced to stare John right in the face. But in 1968, he’s couching his horniness in thinly veiled metaphors. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what “I feel my finger on your trigger” really means.

“Martha My Dear” is about Paul McCartney’s dog. I don’t think anything further need be said. Sweet though it may be, it’s still about a dog.

“I’m So Tired” is a down and out blues song, the first of two blues numbers John wrote for The White Album. After an intense meditation regiment for several days in Rishikesh, John had developed insomnia and longed for his new love. This song is among the most literal that John ever wrote, and the “what’s troublin’ ya?” aesthetic of the blues fits the theme quite well.

“Blackbird” is a seemingly simple song hiding a very complicated finger-picking style. The lyrics deal with the racial tensions in Scotland during the late 60s in beautiful poetic language. In terms of interpretation and art inviting the spectator in, this is the flipside of what was going on in “Glass Onion.” It may be about blacks and whites in Scotland to Paul, but it’s poetic enough that it could mean other things to other people.

Sherry Stringfield as Dr. Susan Lewis

To me, this song is forever tied to a scene from the first season of ER, when Dr. Susan Lewis delivers her sister Chloe’s baby in a frantic and mad rush. Chloe, who brought her boom box and a plethora of tapes, demands that “Blackbird” be played, and Carter struggles to find The White Album with no success, all the while with Susan yelling at him.  Chloe and Susan sing “Blackbird” a cappella as the baby is born. Even though it’s impossible to find in the lyrics, “Blackbird” is about new life to me.

On Monday: Cowboys, rich people and monkey sex; this could only happen on The White Album!