The Electric Church

There is something to be said for getting a group of people together and playing music at high volume. When I say buddies I really mean anyone. It does can be a lifelong friend or it can be someone you’ve never met before. All of it disappears when that amp gets switched on. There is something so impersonal about playing live music yet something so personal at the same time. Once you start, your identity becomes the music you’re playing. Everything else about you becomes irrelevant in an instant. All that exists is the bond that is shared between every person in the room that can feel the music.

Since the 60’s and 70’s groups of teenagers have been meeting in a garage somewhere and banging out songs they wish they had written and pretending to be the guitar gods they worship. Why? Because they appreciate music? Sure. But really it is the existential feeling of the music overwhelming the soul and elevating the spirit to a level that only an amp cranked above 7 can grant. There’s magic in the first hum of the amp warming up. A drummer thumping his snare for the first time. The first bass scale that shakes the entire street. Barriers get broken down and the sound envelopes the senses. It’s like Christmas Day.

So what is the secret ingredient? Volume. And when I say volume, I mean VOLUME. Franz Kafka said “Life's splendor forever lies in wait about each one of us in all its fullness, but veiled from view, deep down, invisible, far off. It is there, though, not hostile, not reluctant, not deaf. If you summon it by the right word, by its right name, it will come.” The amplification process is simple. The music starts in the soul, waiting for its moment. Then it creeps into the strings on the guitar, which sends the signal through the pickups into the body and out to the amp, which again picks up the already once amplified signal and creates the wall of sound you hear. That sound is the faint sound of the music, revealing itself one perfect moment after another through the guitar and brought to the world through the amp. Each note lasts just a moment, but that moment is sacred. It is the soul speaking. Volume is the tool to bring the soul to the surface. Soul is too shy to be let loose just a little bit at a time. It’s either screaming or hiding. And when you hit that chord and that bass back you up with its own little piece of the magic and the drummer drives the beat, the whole world gets a little richer.

Jimi Hendrix was a little different by most standards. He was always searching for that next moment where he could let loose through his mouthpiece, flaming or not. The on stage destruction was the unleashing of his cosmic energy in every direction. He could no longer be contained in just an instrument. But Jimi had it figured out when he talked about wanting to start an electric church. Electric church. That is a place where the spirit comes at you at such volumes that you truly feel your salvation. The music gets inside you and fixes whatever physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual troubles you are holding onto. Its people helping people soul to soul. The Who were one of the first to call volume a device they use to relay their music. It only means what they want it to mean at extreme decibels. It started the battle between The Who and Hendrix to see who could get the loudest equipment. In the end, Townshend and Clapton would give their hearing ability to the music. But they gave it for the chance to live their life in the moment of soul, year after year.

Listening to the music that speaks to you is best done at full volume, that’s all I’m trying to say. Live music is the best way to experience this. So go home and grab your guitar and a friend, crank up your amps and play your heart out. That’s what this life is about. You’ll learn all you need to know about that person in that session than you’ll ever need. Or grab your favorite album and listen to it all the way through and just immerse yourself in it. Right now for me that happens to be Eric Clapton’s Rainbow concert. Recorded in 1973, it was Clapton’s first show in two years after a heroin induced isolation period of his life. His friend Pete Townshend got together Ronnie Wood, Steve Winwood, and some other great musicians and brought Eric back from the dead. The power of that music is unparalleled. You can feel Clapton getting his life back on track. But the album is not the same until it is heard as an experience. Until it is heard as a journey. Try listening to it in a dark room as loud as you can stand it and feel your spirit rise up and unify with the souls of everyone ever touched by the music. It’s the true electric church.

Rage Against Los Angeles

Riding through LA inspired me to put on some Rage Against the Machine. Rage was formed in 1991 in Los Angeles and I can't think of any city that is more representative of the music Rage makes. The culture of LA is very unique. There are a number of ethnicities that have settled in LA if you haven't noticed and they all bring their unique flavor to the culture. But they mix like oil and water. There is a distinct separation between these people that live so close to each other. There are no natural barriers between contrasting elements, just cultural and societal barriers, and some high fences.

Rage is LA. Rage is a band that borrows from a lot of different genres. The music is heavy, but not driving. Its almost dysfunctional rock. Each riff comes in staccato waves, awkwardly flowing into and out of the next riff. Tom Morello's guitar never really finds a groove, and that seems to be the point. Random guitar screams and feedback simulate the violence and tension found in poorer areas. The drums sound distant from the rest of the band, present in driving the beat, but not necessarily supporting the music. People hear the words coming from the drums, but you can never get the message from it. They're reform that is talked about. Present, but distant. Frequently, Wilk's drums drop out altogether. Then there are Zack de la Rocha's lyrics. Defiant, angry, and loud they ring. Is it rap? Is it rock? Sure the verses rhyme and run like rap, but the choruses are closer to old school punk. Its a hybrid. Its unsettling. Above all, the lyrics don't really fit with the uncomfortable music coming from the rest of the band. All of these parts, separate, forming a unique sound that is undeniably attractive. LA, at face value at least, is exactly that: a bunch of separate parts thrown together to create a vibe that is unnerving and filled with tension. I have a clear image in my mind of Rage meeting in a garage near the city and writing and experimenting with this music, just like the teenagers they want to be.

I want to be clear that I am a fan of Rage Against the Machine. They write music that is thought provoking and sounds like no other band before them. Orginality like that scores major points with me. Yes, its loud, and most likely only makes sense to our generation, but it is such a pure product of its environment that we can look at it as what happens to music when we undertake the social experiment that is Los Angeles.

The Deconstruction of the Reaper- A Study of the Perfect Song

(Don't Fear) The Reaper by Blue Oyster Cult is a great song. Great enough that it deserves to be analyzed and appreciated for all the large and small things that it does to engage the listener. I turned this paper into my Popular Music in America class, but I wrote it just for fun really. A copy of the song can be found on iTunes. Here is The Deconstruction of the Reaper:

“I got a fever, and the only prescription is more cowbell.” These immortal words were spoken by Christopher Walken on Saturday Night Live in 2000. Little did he know a phenomenon was created centered around the need for “more cowbell.” More importantly however, he introduced a new generation to the song (Don’t Fear) The Reaper by Blue Oyster Cult. This song is not the best song ever; everyone has their own opinion about that. But it is the archetype all rock songs should be measured against. Each part of the song plays its role perfectly and the production of the song is flawless. In this paper I will analyze each section and its musical significance. It is deceptively complex and it deserves to be examined for its musical significance. Blue Oyster Cult recorded it in July, 1976 on their album Agents of Fortune. (Don’t Fear) The Reaper is written and sung by the lead guitarist Donald Roeser, otherwise known as “Buck Dharma.”

The intro is a simple riff based around an A chord, G chord, F chord, then another G chord with a G that rings out at the end of each chord. It is a simple progression that starts with A and goes down a whole step to G, then another whole step to F, creating a progression of conjunct sounding chords. Technically this is an Am chord, but because we never hear the third note in the opening riff, we don’t know it an Am yet. This progression puts the song in the key of C. Each note is spaced exactly the same with an unrelenting 4/4 rhythm. The introduction riff plays twice and then the drums join in. This is the perfect intro. It wastes no time saying what the artist wants to say. It is a little mysterious the first time, coming from just the right channel, but then the second time around the left channel is added to complete the sound, creating a little tension and then releasing it by completing a stereo sound. It really foreshadows how the song plays with tension the whole time. On the 7th and 8th beats of the song the drum enters with a little break to lead into the song. Therefore, the drum isn’t surprising when it enters, but it is just the right addition to the riff. So far, the song has built up with each measure. The first measure started with the left channel guitar riff, then built with two channels, then added the drums as well as the bass, gaining momentum. The bass has a simple entrance too. Hidden under the drums, it enters doubling the guitar part, almost unnoticed, yet crucially supporting. The whole band plays two more measures, at which point another addition needs to be made. This is where the vocals come in. The introduction only lasts four measures, but they are four interesting measures, entering quietly but deliberately and accelerating very fast, utilizing each instrument. It is also the entrance of the famed cowbell, changing the connotations of the cowbell forever. With the entrance of the lyrics, everything that has been built up through the guitar riff played on the lead setting, the channel mixing, and the momentum of the drums and bass get released with sweet, harmonized lyrics. Nothing else changes; the momentum keeps going. This build and release makes this introduction perfectly crafted, yet nothing is lost in the seamless transition into the first verse.

Two lines into the song, the mold is setting fast. That is when the verse kicks it up a notch. By not settling into the groove, BOC catches the attention of the listener by confusing him or her slightly. With the line “Seasons don’t fear the reaper,” the riff disappears and a similar but slightly altered chord progression enters. Instead of the Am, G, F, G progression, it changes to F, G, Am, F, E. It is a subtle change, but the addition of the new E chord is very interesting. It is a major chord, but not one the listener is accustomed to hearing. And more strangely, the E does not appear again. It adds complexity to what appears to be a simple chord structure. There is more complexity hidden in the chord progression pointed out by Maximummetal.com columnist Nailer: “Musically, each line of the song usually ends with an A minor chord. In simple terms, major chords are usually happy sounding and the minors are the sad ones. Thus, the space between lyrical lines is occupied by the depressing last note. It's an unconscious effect that brings the listener down after each line ends.” This up and down effect that BOC is unconsciously creating sets the tone for the lyrics.

The lyrics are open to interpretation. According to Buck Dharma, the song is about eternal love and accepting death. He states: “I felt that I had just achieved some kind of resonance with the psychology of people when I came up with that, I was actually kind of appalled when I first realized that some people were seeing it as an advertisement for suicide or something that was not my intention at all. It is, like, not to be afraid of it (as opposed to actively bring it about). It's basically a love song where the love transcends the actual physical existence of the partners.” The Romeo and Juliet references really deal with how they are free from their bodies, not free from life. Dharma estimated that 40,000 people died everyday and “refine happiness” not “become happy.” Dharma’s lyrics deserve the deep interpretation he intended. Despite the heavy meaning behind his lyrics, he still sings “La…la-la…la…la” in lullaby fashion. The Am sets a depressing mood, but the la’s let the listener know that everything is going to be okay. It’s an inspiring song written about a solemn moment in someone’s life when the lyrics and music are combined.

At the first “Come on baby” the riff returns on the guitar, but the bass continues to play the chord roots. This is the next section where Dharma builds the tension again. This gets combines with the melody that moves from low to high repeatedly. The repetition of the rising melody is like Dharma keeps trying to reach something he cannot, over and over and over. By the “Baby I’m your man” you are rooting for him to take her hand and have no fear. This section represents the continuing attempts and failure to overcome the fear of death. Then the guitar break comes in with an E Phrygian scale that starts high to pick up the tension where the lyrics left off and then dispels it by descending and leading into the smoothing lullaby section. But Dharma decides not to kill all of the tension and uses his miniature solos and the driving force behind the main riff to keep some of the momentum and tension alive. At the end of this section, approximately 1:11 into the song, Dharma has taken us far off course. We don’t know if we should expect a new section or a reprise or back to the verse. It goes right back into the introduction. Now the song has started over again and the listener is tricked into feeling like the first verse was just an aberration and the song is really starting now. The same intro riff reminds us the song we got distracted from but the bass drum beats are letting us know that we’re going straight into a more intense version of what we’ve already heard. Basically, BOC is layering a thicker version of the first verse on us. This is part of the build and release theme. The second verse is not just a copy of the first, but a heavier one that builds on top of the first, not continues it. This is accomplished with the lead guitar part.

Then the lyrics in the second verse ends but the riffs continues and then mysteriously ends while the lead part lets an A ominously hang over the ringing G, creating a perfect 5th while the final Am chord leaves the listener unsatisfied and waiting for more. This is right where Dharma wants the listener.

Instead of coming back with a familiar part of the song, Dharma comes back with a brand new section. The trick with this section is that although it is different, it has the ghost of the previous sections. The triplet introduced is F, G#, C. The F was a common chord and the song is in C, but the G# throws a winkle into the G that was common in the beginning. There is no chord constructed around these three notes, creating a mysterious triad in a triplet meter different from the previous 4/4 section. It comes in very softly, unlike the introduction of the primary riff in the beginning. Then the three notes change to F, C, and B, much more harmonic notes. The break on the listener’s ears disappears as the F, G#, C returns and but then reverts back to the F, C, B. It engages the listener because they are being toyed with by the alternating unpleasant and pleasant triplets. What it really does is draw the listener closer to the speaker to try to figure out what is going on with this strange alternation. What Dharma is doing is setting up the listener for the explosive guitar solo. He did a masterful job as the light cymbals create a haze around the triplets and the one second volume swell gives an ever so slight warning.

The solo is where in the story the fear of death is overcome. The acceptance of death occurs in a rebirthing in a dark chord progression and solo in the dark sounding E Phrygian. The E Phrygian, the same mode used in the original lead part, is part of the key of C major. It portrays a darker, more exotic, and typically middle-eastern sound. The Phrygian mode to me is the sound of the reaper coming, forcing submission to him, which is why it is commonly used in dark movies and modern heavy metal solos. This was the first heavy metal guitar solo to use the Phrygian mode, which is now an integral part of the heavy metal culture. But the dark solo is not to be the end of one’s experience of earth. His message is not to fear the reaper. At around the 3:23 mark, he sustains the final note of his solo and leads it right into the reprise of the primary riff and the verse. But instead of separating the solo from the third verse, he leaves the last note hanging, symbolizing how the lesson learned about death and eternal love is carried into the third verse, all for the wiser. The third verse is the application of the lesson learned by the woman. She has no more fear and is free and there is resolution. Despite all of the ups and downs and tension and releases, there is a happy ending to this story and song. There is a catharsis that occurs as all of the tension that has been built up is finally released as the riff, chord progression, lead guitar, and lyrics all tell us everything is okay, almost in a Return of the Jedi Ewok party way.

Blue Oyster Cult was one of the pioneers of heavy metal and (Don’t Fear) The Reaper one of their greatest achievements. It is a song that played an important part in the creation of heavy metal with Deep Purple and Black Sabbath. It also was one of the greatest written, recorded, and produced songs of the last 40 years and deserves to be analyzed and recognized for its deceptively complex attributes and musical significance.

Works Cited

Analysis of "(Don't Fear) The Reaper.” http://www.maximummetal.com/columns/tales/11.asp.

(Don’t Fear) The Reaper. http://www.rollingstone.com/news/story/6596242/dont_fear_the_reaper.

Buck Dharma Interview by James Lien, College Music Journal, November 6, 1995. http://www.learningfromlyrics.org/Don'tfear.html.

(Don’t Fear) The Reaper. Wikipedia. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/(Don't_Fear)_The_Reaper.

(Don’t Fear) The Reaper guitar tab. http://www.guitaretab.com/b/blue-oyster-cult/1923.html.

Phrygian Mode. Wikipedia. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phrygian_mode.

The Modes of the Major Scale. http://chrisjuergensen.com.hosting.domaindirect.com/modes_2.htm.

Blue Oyster Cult. (Don’t Fear) The Reaper. Agents of Fortune, 1976.

These ideas are copyrighted by me and can only be used with permission. Please just ask.