Day 8 - "I Wish We'd All Been Ready" by Larry Norman

It has long been an accepted tenet of folk wisdom that the devil has all the best tunes. Indeed, a quick run through the world of commercial contemporary Christian music (CCM) wouldn’t do much to convince you otherwise. I remember a road trip through Texas and Oklahoma listening to CCM, not realising that we’d got through six different bands on the CD changer due to them all sounding exactly the same. Of course, it would be crazy to criticise Christian musicians when there are some outstanding artists writing about their faith (for example: Bill Mallonee and Sufjan Stevens). In fact, before the creation of the juggernaut that is the CCM industry, pioneering artists like Larry Norman were working to spread their message within the mainstream music industry.

Norman was an interesting character. A member of the band “The People!” as a teenager, on leaving them in the late 1960s he underwent an intense spiritual experience and began to view music as a ministry. Signed with Capitol Records, he released “Upon this Rock” in 1969, an album of “love songs to Jesus”. The thing about artists likes Norman is that they had no intention of creating a new genre or industry sub-group. They were signed by mainstream labels based on their musical skill and ability as performers and song writers –importantly, their output therefore stands up musically when re-examined forty years later.

Vilified by prominent Evangelical leaders for playing the “devil’s music”, Norman gave the impression of a man who simply didn’t care. His lyrics directly challenged the listener, and made full use of humour (a response to Christian critics: “They say to cut my hair/ They’re driving me insane/ I grew it out long to make room for my brain”) and even cutting sarcasm (on post-Beatles solo albums: “I’ve been listening to Paul’s records/ I think he really is dead!”). Perhaps his best known song, “I Wish We’d All Been Ready” was included both on “Upon this Rock” and his 1972 MGM Album “Only Visiting This Planet”. A sweeping ballad, the song details what life will be like in the final seven years before Jesus returns. Christians who hold to a “dispensational” interpretation of prophecy generally believe that Christ will come back “secretly” seven years before the Millennium to remove believers from the world in an event known as the “rapture”. Things will get progressively worse before the rapture takes place, but after Christians are removed (as The Louvin Brothers reminded us) the Antichrist will reign and everything will literally “go to hell” for seven years. Norman claimed to have been frustrated by the fact that nobody ever wrote songs about what this tribulation period was like – and “I Wish…” addresses this issue in the most direct way: Children died, the days grew cold/ A piece of bread could buy a bag of gold/I wish we’d all been ready. Norman's skill as a song writer was in his ability to critique the contemporary world without falling into evangelical cliché (the society of the end is marked by communal not moral degeneration) and to evoke the concept of a disturbing dystopia with a measured economy of writing. We might expect, for example, Norman to sing about a piece of bread costing a full bag of gold. Instead, we have the image of bread being sold for gold - raising the disturbing implication that despite starvation, people were still desperately running after treasure, even at the cost of their own survival. Despite the song's simplicity, its criticism should cut to the quick.

"I Wish We'd All Been Ready" was famously included in one of the most well know “rapture” films, portraying the horror of those who were left behind – 1972’s infamous A Thief in the Night. With the film often being shown free to church groups, an estimated 300 million people worldwide have seen it – and thus, been exposed to Norman’s music. It wasn’t the only song he wrote about the end of the world. “Peacepollutionrevolution” (yes, all one word) provided listeners with a list of all the world’s failings and reminded them where they should be looking for end times action: It’s all in Revelation/ It’s all in the design/ And if you’re truly wise/ You’ll keep your eyes on Palestine.

Norman died in 2008, but remains a legend within the Christian music industry. It's a bit of shame that “I Wish We’d All Been Ready” is his most well-known tune. Despite its apocalyptic interest, it doesn’t demonstrate his musicianship or sense of humour as well as many of his other songs. Nonetheless, as the most famous and most covered rapture song it remains an important cultural monument, and guarantees Norman at least a little piece of musical immortality before the second coming. 

I Wish We’d All Been Ready (Norman, 1969)

Life was filled with guns and war
And everyone got trampled on the floor
I wish we'd all been ready

Children died the days grew cold
A piece of bread could buy a bag of gold
I wish we'd all been ready

There's no time to change your mind
The son has come and you've been left behind
 

A man and wife asleep in bed
She hears a noise and turns her head
He's gone
I wish we'd all been ready

Two men walking up a hill
One disappears and one's left standing still
I wish we'd all been ready

There's no time to change your mind
The son has come and you've been left behind

Life was filled with guns and war
And everyone got trampled on the floor
I wish we'd all been ready

Children died the days grew cold
A piece of bread could buy a bag of gold
I wish we'd all been ready

There's no time to change your mind
How could you have been so blind
The father spoke the demons dined
The son has come and you've been left behind

You've been left behind
You've been left behind

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Day 7 - "In the Year 2525 (Exordium and Terminus)” by Zager and Evans (1969)

While worries about the bomb were an ever-present feature of all kinds of apocalyptic speculation in the 1960s, they weren’t the only worry troubling those minded to look for the end of the world. Growing awareness of the danger of pollution and environmental destruction led to campaigns for ecological reforms. Books like Paul Ehrlich’s Population Bomb suggested that the seventies would be marked by famines and wars over resources, while disquiet over the Vietnam war and student protests of 1968 seemed to suggest that society was itself at the point of collapse.

 

Technology presented another area of apocalyptic concern for individuals in the 1960s. As Susan Sontag wrote in her ground breaking article “The Imagination of Disaster” (1965): “The threat to man, his availability to dehumanization, [once] lay in his own animality. Now the danger is understood as residing in man’s ability to be turned into a machine”. Science fiction – the theme which Sontag was concentrating on in her article – presented this danger in a number of different forms. Doctor Who’s Cybermen, first appearing in 1966, imagined a race who had gradually replaced each part of their body with artificial components. “We were exactly like you once, but our race was getting weak”, one Cyberman tells the Doctor, “Our life spans were getting shorter, so our doctors and scientists devised spare parts for our bodies until we could be completely replaced”. But that was not all: “Our brains are just like yours, except that certain weaknesses have been removed. You call them emotions, do you not?”The fear of technology destroying man’s own sense of humanity was a real fear in the period. 

This is where Denny Zager and Rick Evans come in. Performing together from the mid-sixties onwards, the band scored their only hit with their 1968 single “In the Year 2525 (Exordium and Terminus)”. The song gained “breakout” status on a number of local radio stations, which resulted in the boys being signed to RCA Records and enjoying a six week stint at the top of the chart. Without any chorus, the song moves into the future in roughly thousand year increments at a time, each stage revealing that mankind has fallen into an ever increasing reliance on technology leading, essentially, to dehumanization - Your legs got nothin' to do/Some machine is doin’ it for you. The prediction of test-tube babies as soon as, erm, the year 6565 may have been a little off though.

Perhaps the nicest thing about this song (from an apocalyptic point of view) is its hints towards circularity. The secondary title “Exordium and Terminus” refers to concepts of beginning and ending, and the song suggests that what it predicts as far future might, in fact, refer back to the downfall of a previous civilization. God may decide, in 8510, that he needs to tear it down and start again. The final verse thus cycles back – this is a time that is: So very far away/ Maybe it’s only yesterday – before the song returns to the year 2525. The idea that ancient, advanced civilizations have destroyed themselves before us is not uncommon in New Age circles, and hovers around many beliefs surrounding the 21^st December 2012 prophecy. Apocalyptic myth itself often sees in the ending a mirror image of the beginning – and both concepts are reflected nicely in the song. 

Zager and Evans themselves disappeared from view after this – partly, no doubt, because they decided to follow up “2525” with a song called “Mr Turnkey” – told from the point of view of a rapist, who telephones a prison guard to inform him that he has nailed his own arm to the wall in an act of self-mutilation (no, really. Sample lyric: Mr Turnkey, you ain’t never seen nothing like this before/ Mr Turnkey, I’ve nailed my left wrist to your wall). Both singers are still around, with Zager making custom guitars – and the warnings of “2525” perhaps more relevant now than in 1969.

In the Year 2525 (Exordium and Terminus) [Zager and Evans]

In the year 2525

If man is still alive

If woman can survive they may find

In the year 3535

Ain't gonna need to tell the truth, tell no lies

Everything you think do and say

Is in the pill you took today

In the year 4545

You ain't gonna need your teeth won't need your eyes

You won't find a thing to chew

Nobody's gonna look at you

In the year 5555

Your arms hangin' limp at your sides

Your legs got nothin' to do

Some machine's doing that for you

In the year 6565

You won't need no husband, won't need no wife

From the bottom of a long glass tube

In the year 7510

If God's a comin He oughta make it by then

Maybe He'll look around Himself and say

Guess it's time for the judgement day

In the year 8510

God is gonna shake His mighty head

He'll either say I'm pleased where man has been

Or tear it down and start again woh oh 

In the year 9595

I'm kinda wonderin' if man is gonna be alive

He's takin everything this old earth can give

and he ain't put back nothing, oh oh!

 

Now it's been ten thousand years

Man has cried a billion tears

For what he never knew

Now man's reign is through

But through eternal night

the twinkling of starlight

So very far away

Maybe it's only yesterday

In the year 2525

If man is still alive

If woman can survive, they may find…        

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Day 6 - "The Dawn of Correction" by The Spokesmen

Imagine the scene. You’re a right wing politician tasked with reaching out to disaffected youth culture. Everywhere you look you see signs of the cultural appeal of the Left, whether in the cynical hawk-baiting of Kubrick’s Dr Strangelove or the growling anger of Dylan’s protest songs. Suddenly, it comes to you. If you want to appeal to America's youth, then you’re going to need to speak their language. You’re going to need to communicate on a level that they will understand. You’re going to need your very own political folk rockers.  

Now, you know that a number of disaffected young people equate your position with fascism and authoritarianism. You’re aware of the fact that you project an overly harsh and stilted image. The first impression your new group provides is therefore absolutely crucial. How should they pose on the album cover? Shaking hands in friendly-yet-professional mode? Gathered in a smiling, manly huddle? Holding puppies in a garden?  No, no, and no again. The correct answer is that your new group should pose with arms crossed, dressed all in black, glowering at the record buyer in such a way that suggests that they know exactly what you’ve done, and the FBI will round shortly to arrest you. Communist. It's hard to deny that there is something gloriously surreal about the cover for The Spokesmen's only album - the band look like they were all auditioning  for roles in The Prisoner - but there is something unsettling about it as well. After all, nothing dispels an authoritarian image like matching black clothing, a threatening, suspicious stare and the use of the word “Correction” in your album title.

The idea of Conservative folk was not new. This was a trick which had initially been tried in Barry Goldwater’s disastrous 1964 presidential campaign. “The Goldwaters” followed the Republican Presidential candidate on the campaign trail, singing “hits” from their only album “The Goldwaters Sing Songs to Bug the Liberals” (no, really). This didn’t generally make much an impact on the country as a whole; although they did enjoy some limited success in Republican circles (you can read an interview with a former member here). I suppose there wasn't much cause to sing songs like "Win in '64" after the 486 electoral college votes to 52 landslide victory for Lyndon Johnson.

“The Spokesmen” represent a toned down version of “The Goldwaters” template. Made up of Ray Gilmore, Johnny Madara, and Dave White, the group’s sole album (recorded for Decca in 1965) included covers of recent hits, such as “Down in the Boondocks” (which did, after all, talked about bettering oneself and getting the girl) and the Conservative masterpiece that also served to name the record – “Dawn of Correction”. Despite sounding uncomfortably like the title of a Victorian morality sermon or questionable speciality film, “Dawn”, was basically a line-by-line refutation of McGuire’s “Eve of Destruction”. The song is notable for its right wing optimism and ballsy defence of its political philosophy. Each line is a perfectly crafted gem, answering the points raised by McGuire’s song on issues such as Communism, the Draft, and the nuclear deterrent. It’s hard to know where to begin when picking out choice lyrics. The spirited defence of Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD) designed “to ensure negotiation/ so don’t be afraid, boy, it’s our only salvation” is a contender. As it the rather frank admission that the writers simply don’t get the counter-culture movement’s problem with America: “I don’t understand the cause of your aggravation!”. But the winner, for me, has to be the final verse, in which the writers list (seemingly at random) all of the things that McGuire should have been thankful for. Clearly unable to fit it in anywhere else, the band simply decided to dump in their last cause for optimism, almost as an afterthought: “What about the Peace Corps organization? Don’t forget the work of the United Nations!” I find it impossible to dislike a song which is so naïve; simultaneously borderline offensive, of its time and hopelessly optimistic about the future. It is a rare ray of sunshine in the apocalyptic gloom, but one which serves the traditional role of an "apocalyptic" text for right wing listeners. 

The term "apocalyptic" doesn't necessarily refer to "the end of the world". It simply means an "unveiling" or "revelation". In ancient literature, such texts were often written by persecuted groups, with the "unveiling" showing them that God was in control of a seemingly random world. Despite setbacks now", the apocalyptic text reminded its readers, your cause will be vindicated in the end. "The Dawn of Correction" does a similar thing - written for right wingers who felt that their nation was slipping into anarchy, it serves to remind them to keep on the path of "truth"; that despite seeming reverses at present, all will turn out well. Its apocalypse, without destruction. But don't worry - things will be taking a horrific turn tomorrow...

The Dawn of Correction (Gilmora-Madara-White, 1965)

 

The western world has a common dedication

To keep free people from Red domination.
Maybe you can’t vote, boy, but man your battle station

For there’ll be no need for votin’ in future generations.

Chorus: So over and over again, you keep saying it’s the end,

But I say you’re wrong, we’re just on the dawn of correction.

There are buttons to push in too many nations,

But who’s crazy enough to risk annihilation?

The buttons are there to ensure negotiation,

So don’t be afraid, boy, it’s our only salvation.

Chorus

You tell me that marches won’t bring integration,

But look what it’s done for the voter registration.

Be thankful our country allows demonstrations,

Instead of condemning, make some recommendations.

I don’t understand the cause of your aggravation.

You mean to tell me, boy, it’s not a better situation?.

Chorus

You missed all the good in your evaluation,

What about the things that deserve commendation?

Where there once was no cure, there’s vaccination.

Where there once was a desert, there’s vegetation.

Self-government’s replacing colonization.

What about the Peace Corps organization?

Don’t forget the work of the United Nations.

Chorus

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Day 5 - "The Eve of Destruction" by Barry McGuire (1965)

You're old enough to kill, but not for votin'/ You don't believe in war, but what's that gun you're totin'/And even the Jordan River has bodies floatin'...

 

If the 1950s saw a mixture of righteous “Americanism” and increasing Evangelical influence over popular American culture, the 1960s saw the start of a sea-change as the first stirrings of the counter-culture and protest movements began to make themselves evident in the early 1960s. With the rise of the Civil Rights movement it became increasingly common for the Left to openly critique the oppression which formed a central part of much of white American life, while the brinkmanship of the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis had focused minds on the possibility that governments would plunge the world into nuclear war. At the cinema, movies like the satirical Dr Strangelove and straight-laced Fail Safe (bother 1964) portrayed the insanity of worlds in which the madness of human beings, or the malfunctioning of machines led to accidental nuclear destruction. 

This trend for criticism was also expressed in popular music. Bob Dylan’s “Talkin’ World War III Blues” (1963) was a darkly satirical take on the possibly of a war that “started at 3 O’Clock fast/ It was all over by quarter past”. Having had a dream about such a war, Dylan goes to visit his Doctor, where he is promptly declared insane. The punchline comes after Dylan has explained the nightmare post-apocalyptic scenario he faces in his dream (including being mistaken for a Communist) to the medic: 

Well, the doctor interrupted me just about then
Sayin’, “Hey I’ve been havin’ the same old dreams
But mine was a little different you see
I dreamt that the only person left after the war was me
I didn’t see you around"

Well, now time passed and now it seems
Everybody’s having them dreams
Everybody sees themselves
Walkin’ around with no one else

In a society driven mad by the prospect of nuclear war, Dylan implies, we’re all caught up with the fantasy that we’ll be the “last man”. 

Barry McGuire’s “Eve of Destruction” is more upfront in its criticism of mid-sixties America. Originally conceived as a song in the “Dylan style” for the Byrds, it was recorded by a number of artists in 1965 before it was given to Barry McGuire, a folk rocker (and once of the fantastically named duo “Barry and Barry”), who made it a number one hit. P.F. Sloan’s lyrics, which don’t pull their punches, attack an America which was making soldiers of its young men, staring nuclear destruction in the face, and condemning other countries for injustice while indulging in blatant racism (Think of all the hate there is in Red China/ Then take a look around to Selma, Alabama). Despite its controversial material, the song was hugely popular in the US, but it proved to be McGuire's only hit. Despite later work with the Mamas and Papas, he nearly dropped out of the industry, before converting to Evangelical Christianity and becoming one of the pioneers of Christian rock. 

The lyrics to "Eve of Destruction" might suggest that Americans were ready to take a sudden left turn in their politics. But as we’ll see tomorrow, the right wing were ready to strike back, with their very own folk crusaders...

Eve of Destruction (P.F. Sloan, 1965)

The eastern world, it is exploding
Violence flarin', bullets loadin'
You're old enough to kill, but not for votin'
You don't believe in war, but what's that gun you're totin'
And even the Jordan River has bodies floatin'

But you tell me
Over and over and over again, my friend
Ah, you don't believe
We're on the eve
of destruction.

Don't you understand what I'm tryin' to say
Can't you feel the fears I'm feelin' today?
If the button is pushed, there's no runnin' away
There'll be no one to save, with the world in a grave
(Take a look around ya boy, it's bound to scare ya boy)

And you tell me
Over and over and over again, my friend
Ah, you don't believe
We're on the eve
of destruction.

Yeah, my blood's so mad feels like coagulatin'
I'm sitting here just contemplatin'
I can't twist the truth, it knows no regulation.
Handful of senators don't pass legislation
And marches alone can't bring integration
When human respect is disintegratin'
This whole crazy world is just too frustratin'

And you tell me
Over and over and over again, my friend
Ah, you don't believe
We're on the eve
of destruction.

Think of all the hate there is in Red China
Then take a look around to Selma, Alabama
You may leave here for 4 days in space
But when you return, it's the same old place
The poundin' of the drums, the pride and disgrace
You can bury your dead, but don't leave a trace
Hate your next-door neighbour, but don't forget to say grace
And, tell me over and over and over and over again, my friend
You don't believe
We're on the eve
Of destruction
Mmm, no no, you don't believe
We're on the eve
of destruction.

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