Saturday, Jul. 09, 2005 - 8:24 PM
Just knowing people are gonna be reading this and getting really hacked off makes me a bit nervous. Just because I reserve the right to say whatever I want on my own website doesn't mean that I'm not concerned with what people think. It's just that they can't tell me I can't say it when I'm writing it here.
However, I'd like to point out that someone slammed YWT and Clay's "evangelical preaching" on the fanclub message board, and I think that was rude as hell. Standing on my own front porch screaming is one thing�standing on Clay's porch screaming is really out of line.
So, with that said�here we go.
Clay? Sweetie? If you've got a minute, there's something I really need to get off my chest.
(no, not THAT�I'll take that off later. For now, I just need you to read this.)
I don't have a problem with you being of a particular faith. I really don't. Okay, I guess it could be seen as a problem if I would have picked a different specific sect for you to belong to, if I had that power (Could you maybe consider going back to the Moravians? They seem like awfully nice people! And picnics really aren't a reason to belong to a church, are they?)�but really, I'm more okay with it than even I thought I would be. I'll admit, when I first noticed your WWJD bracelet way back when, I rolled my eyes. Oh, no�not another one. It's sorta like Kryptonite for me. But because you have proven yourself over and over to be a good person, and not a pushy jerk like just about every WWJD-bracelet-wearer I've ever encountered, I've gotten over my initial ick about it.
See, I recognize that I have my own personal problems with mainstream religion. I won't go into all of that mess here, but I want to make sure you understand that I'm not simply operating under my own bias�a bias I freely admit that I have.
I've lived in the South (or semi-South, since Texas is really its own country, you know) for just over 20 years, and until I moved here, I never had to defend my own religion or lack thereof, or the religion of my family, nor was I even asked about my religious beliefs, especially by strangers. I was raised to question things, including the teachings of religious authorities, and keep my faith personal, because it wasn't anyone else's business. But I've spent a good bit of 20 years having people say things like "Oh, I'm not telling you what to believe, Julie�I'm just saying that it's very sad that you're going to burn in hell, because you're really nice and I like you." Or telling me that, despite my baptism, I would simply HAVE to be baptized again, because mine "didn't count"�apparently I didn't say the magic words and stand on one foot or something. Or that nobody who wasn't a Christian could actually be a good person, because, without Jesus in yer heart, ya just can't love right. Whatever. (and I won't go into one of my personal faves�that Catholics are idolaters and therefore not Christian�because I'll start frothing at the mouth)
But you're a good guy. I never once heard you say anything like that. Well, I did hear that you said something about "schooling the unchurched" in an interview with a Christian teen magazine, and that made me want to punch a hole in the wall, but I had to pass it off as pandering to the readership of that magazine, because I simply couldn't see you saying something that obnoxious and meaning it.
So, when I heard that you were doing some religious song called You Were There on your tour last summer, and that some people were upset about it, my first thought was to assume that people were overreacting a touch.
Can't find the exact post, but I recall writing something back then about how I'd rather hear a religious song from you than from just about anyone, because at least it wouldn't be hypocritical. Clay Aiken singing a Christian song isn't exactly a shocker. It's not like some foul-mouthed, booze-swilling egomaniac covered in bling stumbling to a podium to accept a Grammy for a song about knockin' boots with some chick whose name he won't remember in the morning�and giving "big ups to God Almighty." People like that need a steaming cup of STFU�but Clay Aiken professing his faith�well, that's a breath of fresh air, isn't it?
Of course, this was before I ever heard the song or saw you perform it in concert.
And, for the record, I never had a problem with All About Love on your earlier tour. Not one. The song rocked, fit perfectly into the set, and had a simple message that everyone could agree on�the only way that the world was gonna get better was if people LOVED more. Perfect. Plus, you were having a great time singing it, which meant the audience had fun.
But You Were There wasn't like that. Not at all.
It's not the song, necessarily, although the song doesn't really do much for me. If I was gonna say anything specific about the song, I would have to say that singing about God is one thing and singing about "the risen Lamb of God" is something else. Lots of Christians don't make that distinction, but, believe me, non-Christians do. And if your goal is to work religious/spiritual/uplifting material into your concerts, you can do that without making it All About Jesus, right? You can keep the focus more on what Jesus said than who he was, right? The message instead of the "rules"?
But I'm getting a tad off track.
What I really want to talk about is the STAGING�because that's really where you went horribly wrong, in my never to be humble opinion.
First�you changed your clothes. That may seem like a weird thing to nitpick about, but just hear me out, willya? For some reason, the clothing you were wearing up until that song was deemed inappropriate, so you changed. And then, when YWT was over, the new outfit you were wearing was just not going to work for the rest of the show, so you changed again. A decision was made that, for this one song, a Special Outfit was needed.
And what was that Special Outfit? A white suit. (don't suppose you had a hairshirt under there, didya?)
Don't get me wrong, you look lovely in white. But that's not why you chose it, and you know it.
A white suit with an intense white spotlight bouncing off of you, as though you were�.glowing. Nice touch.
And, while you're at it, go ahead and put yourself on a pedestal. Standing at the tippy-top of the stage wasn't going to be high enough�you needed to be on a special platform.
(Wow. Normally I'd be really excited that you were barefoot. Some other time, maybe.)
With you being way back on that part of the stage, it was really difficult to see you. (or, as from my vantage point at the Grand Prairie show, actually impossible to see you, because you were so far back on the stage, those of us along the sides of the theater got a big view of nothing) Normally, those of us who aren't pressed up against the stage have an opportunity to still see you pretty clearly through the use of the jumbotron screens. That's why they're there. But, for some reason, you decided that we were not to look at you.
You didn't seem to want us to get a good look. Maybe it's because when we look at your face, especially when you're singing something really dramatic, our minds might wander into areas that you didn't want them to when you wanted us to be focusing on your message.
So, in order to keep us from having carnal thoughts (as if you had any control over that�although, I'll admit, I wasn't having any for a while there�which is a rarity, to be sure), you made a decision to show other pictures on the screens. All the screens. Not just the ones on the stage. All of them. Not just to put pretty images up that supported the lyrics of the song for dramatic effect, because that could have been done with just the two screens that were part of the set. No, you decided that the only thing the audience was going to REALLY see was the religious imagery. Not your face. Other stuff, carefully chosen. Pages from the Bible. Crosses on a hillside. (I suppose I should thank you that there weren't bloody, beaten bodies hanging from them, but I'm not going to.)
Was there anything else that could have been seen during that song, besides the speck of you and the giant pictures? Your entire band was shrouded in darkness, so we couldn't look at them either. Big dark stage, glowing white figure at the top, and jumbo screens with crosses on them. Yeah, that's subtle.
All of these things were decisions made by you. Maybe they weren't your ideas originally, but you signed off on them. You were cool with them. You had to be�you did the same show night after night, rushing offstage before Rosanna was over, putting on the white suit, climbing up onto your special perch, glowing in the dark, knowing that all those jumbotron cameras pointed at you weren't showing us a dang thing�then getting out of that suit ASAP so you could return to the secular portion of the program.
All About Love was part of the show. You Were There brought the show to a screeching halt. Wait a minute, everyone�I know you're all having a good time rockin' out to Toto, but can I just direct your attention to Jesus for a moment? I promise I'll be tugging on my shirt and making you scream and wet your pants a little later�but for now, I need to preach at you. Preaching. Isn't that something you've kinda implied that you don't want to do? Or have I totally misunderstood you all along?
And although you made me a bit uneasy with this performance, I'm really not blaming you for my wanting to run screaming from the theater in Grand Prairie. It wasn't your fault that I was suddenly finding myself surrounded by the kinds of people who had always given me crap for not being one of them. It's not your fault that I stood there looking around the room (where else was I going to look, once I decided that I didn't feel like looking at the Bible blown up all huge like that?), terrified that one of those people with her hand in the air, all filled with the spirit, would look over at me, and see that mine wasn't raised�worried that someone would approach me later in the parking lot, feeling it was her duty to save my soul. The religious beliefs of all those people in that room, something that was not my business, was being shown to me, whether I liked it or not. My personal anguish over realizing I was no longer at a fun concert, but in a revival tent, was mine and mine alone. (well, not alone�obviously there are others who felt the same way�but a lot of them aren't talking, because they're afraid to get beaten over the head for daring to question the "risen Lamb of God")
But it kinda was, at least partly, your fault.
Here's the thing, though�I don't believe you did this maliciously. I don't think you set out to show us heathens a thing or two. I don't think you really expected to instigate mass conversions on this tour.
I think you just wanted to sing a song that you loved, that meant a lot to you, and you hoped we would all enjoy it. You probably thought you were being careful to make it as inoffensive as possible, and it came as a surprise to you that so many people had such big problems with it.
If you were anyone else, I'd just dismiss you as a jerk. If you weren't someone I loved and respected, I'd be here ripping you to shreds right now. But I know you�I think. You're a great guy, and I know that. That's why I'm giving you such a gigantic benefit of the doubt. I'm hoping that you just didn't realize that this number could have been seen as something so negative. I'm hoping it's just because you simply have no idea what it's like to see the world through eyes like mine�plus, you haven't known a lot of people who didn't share your religion, so it's never been that much of an issue before, right?
I'm immensely proud that when you worked for the Y, you made sure there was no "overtly Christian" music, recognizing that summer camp wasn't church, and you had kids from different religious backgrounds there. Most people, in my experience, wouldn't have bothered to notice that�or if they had noticed, they wouldn't have worried about it, because Jesus is "right" and there's no harm in exposing all those kids to some more Jesus.
But, for whatever reason, you made the decision to bring Jesus into the room during your concert. Not appropriate for the kids at camp, but appropriate for the kids in the audience, and their parents? You weren't telling me that I had to agree with you, but you were reminding me that you and I differ quite a bit on this issue. Not exactly conducive to a good time for ol' Julie, who came to your show to be entertained.
Sure, people can tell me all the time "if you don't like it, don't go to the concert." Let's say I wasn't one of these online fans who knew every song in your set list ahead of time. Let's say I was just someone who adored you and your fine self who bought a ticket and went to see you�and then suddenly in the middle of my good time, some churchin' happens. Okay, I'm an adult. I can probably handle that without being scarred too awfully bad. But you care about kids, right? Let's say I had kids and I was raising them in my religion (the details of which are none of your business), and suddenly they're being bombarded with religious imagery that I don't approve of. Should I never attend one of your concerts again because of that? What is the difference between my fictional children and all those kids who attended the Y camp you ran? They look up to you. They respect you. They admire you. They want to be like you. (So do I, actually�except for the Christian part.)
You haven't changed your position on such things, have you? I mean, you only just wrote about that Y camp stuff last year�
I swear I'm not trying to rip you a new one, hon. I'm just trying to make sure you understand how upsetting this was to me. I mean, I know you're not Stryper�you don't chuck little Bibles into the audience. I just hope you didn't decide not to do it simply to avoid personal injury claims. ;o)
And ps�if I hadn't had the YWT experience last summer, I might have actually listened to your Christmas album more than once. I love Christmas music (despite being a "heathen" and all), but it turned out that I didn't want to hear you sing any. And I'm not even kidding a little bit.
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