This post was submitted by Chris

I still remember my first Christian worship experience like it was yesterday. Convinced by a friend to attend a Christian rally, I was quickly consumed by a sea of people with heaven-bound hands, eyes full of adoration for a guitar-saddled man on stage who, from his gentle doe eyes to his scraggly brown beard and flowing hair, served as stock-image Jesus placeholder. As it was, I turned out to be a sucker for the rapture and thrill of spiritual symbiosis set to music and was sold at first hook. And yesterday, I experienced something of a faith flashback.

When I was a young Evangelical Christian, I delighted in the subscription to CCM Magazine that I had gotten as a giveaway at the aforementioned worship rally. CCM was the authoritative source on all things Christian music – it was how I discovered my favorite Christian bands, from Audio Adrenaline to “rapper” tobyMac. Where the Fugees and Garbage made my middle school self feel slightly ashamed for enjoying their “explicit” content, I could enjoy the lyrics of dcTalk guilt-free. Furthermore, like the worship rally, Christian music made me feel like I was a part of something larger. It was one of the ways I most readily accessed my faith life.

As I got older, my religious identity changed and I started to call myself a Secular Humanist. Likewise, my taste in music shifted more and more toward what is often referred to as indie. Pitchfork took CCM’s place. I continued to seek out musical rapture, but instead looked for it in Minneapolis dive bars, not renovated warehouses equipped with strobe lights and a projector casting Scripture on the wall. I began to wear my so-called obscure music taste like a badge of honor among my hip friends: “What, you haven’t heard of Danielson? Man, you really should check them out. I think you’d really like ‘em.”

Meanwhile, I continued to listen in secret to bands they hadn’t heard of but that I was sure they wouldn’t like – my favorite Christian bands from childhood. The tables had turned and now these were my musical guilty pleasures. Friends would come over and I’d put Sufjan Steven’s “Illinois” on vinyl. Once I’d gotten them out the door, I’d shut the blinds and pull Relient K’s “Two Lefts Don’t Make a Right… But Three Do” out from where I’d had it stashed away, relieved to retrieve it for private play.

Both of these records articulate a spiritual message, though Relient K’s is a bit more obvious. And I could easily make a case that this behavior was because Sufjan Stevens’ music is of higher quality – which I believe to be true. But, sentimentality for days of yore aside, there is still something very basic and, in spite of their theology, approachable about Relient K’s music that I can appreciate. So why did I set my shuffle to “off” and hope that nobody would notice their “Christian” tag when scrolling through my iTunes?

I already know the answer: it’s because Christian music has rightfully earned the reputation of being preachy and commercial – both lacking in artistic integrity and exclusivistic in content.

Because of this, I hadn’t been paying much attention to Christian music lately. This weekend, however, I came across a relatively new record by a man I used to be a big fan of. His name is Derek Webb – a long-time darling of the CCM scene – and the record is called Stockholm Syndrome. The name of the album piqued my curiosity, but what really caught my attention was the message posted on his website:

“If you bought Derek’s new album, Stockholm Syndrome, anywhere but here… you didn’t get the entire album. Get a free download of the controversial missing song, ‘What Matters More.’”

A controversial Christian song? Do tell, Mr. Webb.

I entered my email straight away and proceeded to download the song and call it up in my iTunes. I was not prepared for what I heard; this was not the gentle guitar-plucking Webb I’d remembered. The song is a stuttering, layered electronic groove that kicks off with the line: “You say you always treat people like you’d like to be / I guess you like being hated for your sexuality.” A few seconds later, the word “damn” rears its head. Before the song’s end, “shit” joins the party. I was in shock; my middle school self scandalized. What the fuck, Webb?

I played it again and listened closer. Webb continues:

“If I can tell what’s in your heart by what comes out of your mouth / Then it sure looks to me like being straight is all it’s about… / We can talk and debate ’til we’re blue in the face / About the language and tradition that He’s coming to save / Meanwhile we sit just like we don’t give a shit / About fifty-thousand people who are dying today / Tell me… what matters more to you?”

A wildly popular Christian musician taking a pro-queer stance? Uh, did the rapture happen? The song may find Webb coming out against modern Christianity’s epidemic discrimination of queer folks, but it’s also a lot more. The song is actually something of a call to arms to the Christian community to stop obsessing over issues like homosexuality and start holding itself accountable to its claims of caring for the needy. “What Matters More” has raised a lot of controversy in CCM circles and is largely responsible for a battle between Webb and his label that resulted in the song being cut from the album. It can only be found on the “explicit” version of Stockholm Syndrome that is solely available for purchase on his website.

The rest of the album is just as curious. “Freddie, Please” is a lush 1950′s throwback, cool and demure in style but enraged in content. Almost a brokenhearted lament – “How could you tell me you love me when you hate me?” – it’s actually a diatribe against gay-hating totalitarian Fred Phelps that contains this line that made me grin from ear-to-ear: “Freddie, can’t you see? Brother, you’re the one who’s queer.”

Meanwhile, “Heaven” is a slow trip that imagines Jesus in heaven, untouchable in an armored car; “The State” and “The Spirit vs. The Kick Drum” are thoughtful critiques of Christian politics and Christian subculture’s materialism. Reactions to the album have been mixed among CCM folks – some have lauded his candor and prophetic voice, while others see him as betraying cultural taboos.

Whether you are a Christian or not, he’s worth checking out. Webb is an articulate songwriter, a skilled craftsman, and, to be perfectly honest, devilishly handsome (and, sadly, heterosexually married). Above all, he’s a rare, encouraging ally for queers in the CCM scene who recently performed at a gay Christian conference. To see one of CCM’s golden boys come on over to our side warms my heart.

Additionally, he’s inspired me to stop being so embarrassed by the Christian music I enjoy. If Webb can come out in favor of queers, maybe I can live with a bit more integrity. I openly enjoy artists like David Bazan and Sufjan Stevens who sing about their Christian faith; perhaps I can also own up to putting on Relient K’s cheesy pop-rock riffs for a bad day pick-me-up the same way I do MGMT or Kid Sister. If I have to sacrifice my hipster credibility to betray that frayed “badge of honor,” I’ll happily do it.

If you still can’t bring yourself to download music by a Christian artist, come on by my place. You might be treated to a bit of Stockholm Syndrome, even if I continue to reserve the vintage Relient K for solo spin sessions.

Chris’ column, The Non Prophet, runs Wednesdays at 2 PM. For more on Chris, visit his website.

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