Henry Rollins: The Column! Holy Music

By Henry Rollins Thu., Jul. 21 2011 at 7:47 AM

Timothy Norris

[The one and only Henry Rollins contributes a weekly column and far-reaching reportage to the music section of the LA Weekly. Look for your weekly Henry Rollins fix right here on West Coast Sound every week and make sure to tune in to Henry's KCRW radio show every Saturday evening, or online, or as a podcast, or however else you decided to listen to the most eclectic DJ on LA's airwaves.

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Holy Music

A few days ago I was in Middlesboro, Kentucky, for my forthcoming show on the National Geographic channel called Animal Underworld. I had the opportunity to attend a Pentecostal church meeting that doubled as a music gitdown unlike anything I've ever experienced.

Perhaps you have heard about what sometimes happens at these meetings: live music, speaking in tongues, strychnine drinking and poisonous snake handling. It is this last activity that perhaps raises the most eyebrows. In fact, the pastor at this church had been bitten six times, and is missing a good portion of one of his right fingers. But that didn't stop him from taking me out snake hunting that day, and we managed to catch a sub adult copperhead (Agkistrodon contortrix) sunning itself on a log!

You may ask: Why would anyone want to handle copperheads, cottonmouths or rattlesnakes, anyway? Their venom is very potent stuff, after all. But you must understand that these folks take the following section from Mark 16:17-18 very seriously:

And these signs shall follow them that believe: In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues. They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover. (Mark 16:17-18)

That night we set up our cameras and lights in the small church, a humble but sturdy rectangle with a low roof that was devoid of windows. I took my seat in a pew at the front. The members had been warned we would be filming there and that they shouldn't show up if they didn't want to potentially be in the show. Yet, the place was full - about twenty-five people, perhaps -- and I found out that many of them come to services three times per week. The attendees were middle-aged and older, white, and mostly large -- a couple dangerously so. Their clothes were simple but formal, and, as far as I could tell, they were all shoeless.

To the pastor's left on the stage were several boxes of poisonous snakes. (The one we had caught earlier in the day had been deemed too small and was left back at the pastor's house.) There was a drum kit, a Les Paul Gold Top guitar, a couple of bass guitars and a keyboard. I'd known there was the possibility of music being played, and was eager to see how this was all going to go.

The pastor took to the podium and asked if anyone had anything ailing them. A few told him about the aches and pains they were suffering and he gave them a blessing. Before long, a young girl got behind the keyboard and the pastor's son got on the drums. A young man who had brought his own snake -- a beautiful adult cottonmouth (Agkistrodon piscivorus) -- picked up a bass, plugged into a rig, and started tuning up. The pastor tuned the Les Paul and quickly the rest of the band joined in. It was the start of a Gospel/Blues-based jam that didn't let up for almost three hours.

The music was good and I was digging it. I started clapping my hands and nodding my head; people around me noticed and smiles broke out all around.

About an hour in, the night took on a momentum that is hard to explain. People started sweating and dancing. One man walked with great difficulty to the front and others rushed to him, putting their hands on him. The keyboard player and the pastor started crying. The bass player put down his bass, brought out his cottonmouth and started dancing around with it, often holding it dangerously close to his face. People were moving all around me and I thought I was tripping. A man whose leg was in a cast stood up with his crutches, threw them down and started jumping up and down. The cottonmouth was now getting passed around, and all of this was happening as our two brave camera operators weaved in and out of the action.

The music occasionally stopped as people got up to testify. They would finish and the music would resume. The pastor had now switched with the bass player, the son was now singing into a cordless mic, an old woman was playing drums, and the keyboard girl hammered away while her tears were being wiped away by another woman. More snakes came out and were passed around, people started speaking in tongues, and more people sang. It was one of the most full-on experiences I have ever had in all my life. It was like being in the last scenes of The Party--if it was shot in Appalachia. I just sat there, taking it all in, wondering how I was going to be able to write all of this down.

Around two and a half hours in, the meeting started winding down. The church was hot and people had sweated through their clothing. The pastor asked me and the crew to testify. I thanked everyone for letting us be here, as did the rest of the team. Everyone clapped.

The pastor then thanked everyone for coming, and noted that the next meeting began in about thirteen hours.

I stood by the front door and talked to people on their way out. They were all incredibly friendly, wishing us luck. It had taken a lot of trust for them to let us in. Apparently, other film crews have made a sport of them before.

Several minutes later we were in the van, heading back to the hotel. Hardly anyone spoke. It was a night to remember. Most surprisingly, it featured some of the most rockin' live music I have heard in a long time.

Until next week.

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Henry Rollins

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There is some great music out there in places like this. I suggest you visit some of the African- American churches down in Mississippi. On any Sunday you can hear some music that will make you jump.

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Our species is a forever-fascinating potpourri, running the gamut from seething psycho serial killers to glass-is-half-full people so overflowing with joy that they poop rainbows and gummy bunnies.

Some of our fellow brethren devote their lives to select verses from god's manifesto, while dismissing the entire remainder of the "good book." Told by god directly that they, and they alone, know the username and password to heaven, god's elect must be ever-vigilant in warding off satan and his evil minions which are literally everywhere and in every thing, in order to guarantee entrance to said pearly gates.

Each group's method of proving their faith in order to earn god's love vary from mild to wild. Though some U.S. Christian sects resemble the taliban's vice laws, the following religious no-nos have been practiced in the States hundreds of years before we ever heard of al Qaeda. These include:

* Handling snakes and drinking poison.* Speaking in tongues while prostrating hysterically on the floor.* Banning use of all medicine.* Banning women from cutting their hair.* Banning women from showing their hair.* Banning women from using makeup.* Banning women from wearing slacks or jeans.* Banning women from deciding who they marry.* Banning contraception no matter how poor or incapable of raising children.* Banning men from cutting their beards.* Banning electricity.* Mandating one man must have numerous wives and hundreds of children.* Giving money to god, the least-neediest being of all, via a preacher instead of buying food.* Giving all assets to god's messenger for admission to his commune, awaiting armageddon.* Laying on of hands by god's annointed because god heals all disease (except amputees).* Quiverfulls believing women's only value is constant pregnancy and pushing out babies.* Dominionist fathers banning daughters from school after 8th grade, forbidding daughters from having jobs, and daughters leaving home only when maried.

Last but not least, of course, is the most-heinous sin of all. Not killing puppies, not pedophelia, not murder and not pedophilic murder, but rather adult consensual same-sex love; the most evil of all evils, a sin of choice that simply needs to be un-chosen to be fixed in the eyes of the faithful. There's not been one single sermon about not raping and killing children and women by these sects. Instead, millions of dollars are spent on lobbying for legislation to make same-sex love and marriage a violation of our constitution and thus a treasonous crime. Also, same-sex love and marriage must be banned to prevent U.S. earthquakes, hurricanes, floods and terrorist attacks.

Of course, all these different cults/sects proclaim that their methods and beliefs are the only path to heaven, and billions of others not worshipping exactly as they do shall all perish in everlasting hell.

The only positive output of such fundamental bible literalists is their various forms of gospel music which, at least for me, is utterly irresistable, loving all of it from traditional country gospel to Gregorian chants.

If these religious rules created as much joy as their music does, god's children such as the WBC, might be a bit less angry; using their posters, magic markers and websites for good instead of hate.

Sean Lars Ganser

My girlfriend's great-grandfather started the Pentecostal snake church... no joke.

Connor

Pastor, Bass Player, and Snake Catcher all in one. I myself am not at all religious, but I have to admire how deeply involved this man is in his church.