With the timely passing of Jerry Falwell, I was reminded of this essay I wrote a while back, describing the very moment I lost faith in the church. Ah, to have mental clarity at seven; those were the days.
“Babe, I’m leaving, I must be on my way
The time is drawing near
My train is going, I see it in your eyes
The Love, the need, your tears.”
– Dennis DeYoung, Styx
Those simple words changed my life. I was only seven-years-old when I heard them, but their profound effect has lingered and I am forever indebted to the man who wrote them and the band that brought them to life. Had I not heard them, I may have devoted my life to bible study and donated large sums of my money to the offering. I may have witnessed to people and been called Brother Jenkins by my fellow members of the clergy. Hell, I may have started a career with Chick-Fil-A had it not been for that classic song. Whoever said 70s’ stadium rock was useless never used it to trick their Sunday school teacher.
It was 1979. While the neighborhood kids were interested in playing cowboys and Indians, I was interested in music. I was interested in playing rock star in my room. I would spray my grandfather’s acoustic guitar with Right Guard, the light it on fire as I slipped into my best Guitar God pose; all while avoiding third-degree burns. I was interested in beating the hell out of the cheap, paper drum sets I would get at Christmas and destroy by New Year’s Day. But, more than anything, I was interested in KISS.
From the time my Aunt bought me their ‘Hotter Than Hell’ album on 8-Track, I was obsessed KISS. They were everything I was not. They were rich, famous and mysterious. They were living, breathing super heroes armed with guitars. And they seemed to have plenty of women. (Although, even at seven, I was smart enough to know Cher was a nasty ho and that her relationship with the equally whorish Gene Simmons would never last.)
My KISS albums provided the soundtrack for my bedroom-room-only performances, for which I would go so far as printing up tickets for. Of course, I never sold tickets to these rock spectacles, or even gave them away to friends. I just played for the imaginary crowds of 50,000 screaming girls. It was a good life. I even gave post-concert interviews. I was a bizarre kid, I suppose, but it kept me entertained and I didn’t grow up to bury young boys or strip naked and howl at the moon every night.
In between all my sold-out shows, there was church. My parents weren’t religious at all, but for some reason I went to church. Every Sunday, a bus would stop at my house and I would be whisked away to eat cookies, drink Kool-Aid and learn about the Lord. It wasn’t horrible, but I remember resenting that the bus driver always seemed to arrive at my house during the last five minutes of Lost in Space on the Superstation. What a bastard.
Soon, however, my feelings about the church would change. One day my teacher, a younger lady with long brown hair and a blank stare usually reserved for cultists and couple who’ve been married for more than five years, started talking about the evils of KISS.
“They’re satanic,” she said with a fervor only matched by my self-introductions before each of my bedroom concerts.
“KISS stands for Knights in Satan’s Service. They are going to hell, and anyone that listens to them is going with them.”
For a kid, hearing that you are going to hell is some heavy shit. It’s not like your mom saying you are going to bed without dinner. We’re talking about eternal damnation. We’re talking about burning for eternity in a fiery pit. In other words, the lady freaked me out.
When I went home that day, I put on KISS’s ‘Destroyer’ album and started thinking about what the Sunday school teacher had said. All of a sudden I imagined myself burning forever; flesh falling off my bones. When the song ‘God of Thunder’ came on, I had to stop listening. I loved KISS and all, but my soul seemed more important than music. I was still a few years away from learning that, without music, I had no soul.
So, after discarding KISS, I went through my Aunt’s 8-Tracks collection and found Styx’s ‘Cornerstone’ album. I figure my Aunt wouldn’t have Satanic music in her collection and they would be safe.
The first song I heard was ‘Babe.’ I remember thinking, “What kind of pansy-ass shit is this?!?” I wasn’t admitting to liking girls yet, so I really didn’t get the whole, “You know it’s you Babe. Giving me the courage and strength I need.” I knew about rockin’ and rollin’ all night and partying every day, not about loving a girl so much you felt like writing her a cheesy song. So, I ended up putting the album back in my Aunt’s collection, but not before I had an idea that would eventually change the way I viewed religion.
The following Sunday I was cheated out of another Lost in Space ending and returned to Church. When I entered my Sunday school class, angry because I never found out if Dr. Smith and Robot saved Will, I saw my teacher, going through her notes for that days’ lesson. I approached her, ready to put my plan into action.
“Hello Tony. How are you this beautiful Sunday morning?”
“I’m all right, I guess.”
“Only all right? Jesus loves you Tony. You should be much more than all right.”
“Yeah, I guess so. You know, I was thinking about what you said last Sunday. About how KISS was Satanic, and how anyone who listened to them was going to Hell.”
“That’s right. They are Satan’s children and they want to take your soul and burn it for their master.”
“So, what about Styx? Are they Satanic too?”
“Yes, Tony, they are,” she said without hesitation.
I smiled and took my seat. For the first time in my short life, everything made sense. I had figured out what usually takes people years to figure out, and what others never do; the church is full of hypocrites who taint religion.
That lady didn’t even flinch when she looked me in the face and lied. Sure, I could buy that KISS were Satanic. Gene Simmons looked evil enough and he breathed fire. But there was no way I could ever believe that a band that sang sappy pop like ‘Babe’ could have any association with the Prince of Darkness. I was still a few years away from learning that bad music was the true work of Satan.
Sure, I may have eventually figured out the church on my own, but the help of Styx I was able to do it at seven-years-old and, for that, I am forever thankful.
So, Domo arigato, Styx, domo…domo…domo…domo.
EDITOR’S NOTE: I kinda dig ‘Babe’ now that I’m older. OK, OK… I think it’s the jam.
Good post. OK, so you realized that one Sunday School teacher didn’t know what she was talking about? Should we all take our faiths, our Bibles, and everything else and throw it all out the window?
“Babe” is the jam, but I like Styx’s rockers better- “Blue Collar Man,” “Too Much Time On My Hands” (the blogger’s anthem), etc.
Ummm… Styx is satanic. They are named after the river that channels souls from this corporal plain to the Underworld. They are not praising the glory of the highway to heaven, but rather the path to H-E- double hockey styx, err, sticks. Peace brother.