Band adds religion to famous lyrics Cheesy at times Sunday, July 12, 1998
BY KAREN SAMPLES
The Cincinnati Enquirer
ERLANGER -- A man in dark sunglasses, cut-offs and an earring shaped like an electric guitar is standing on the altar at Erlanger United Methodist Church.
Around him are other baby boomers similarly attired. They're jamming on a '60s rock classic, and I can't help but hum along.
Memers of the band practice at the Erlanger United Methodist Church in Erlanger.
(Ernest Coleman photo)
| ZOOM |"There's something happening here - What it is ain't exactly clear. . . ."
Wait a minute.
That first part sounded right, but what's this next bit? I'd swear Buffalo Springfield never sang about scribes and Pharisees. The band plays on.
"Last night He went to the garden to pray - The Roman soldiers came and took Him away."
No. It can't be.
But it is.
If the rap group Public Enemy can cover "For What It's Worth," these musicians figure God can, too.
Think about it. If He were rewriting the songs, who's to say they wouldn't have a beat?
"There's a lot of people who don't think God has a sense of humor, or a sense of rhythm," says bass player Mark Turpin, 43.
Obviously, these folks think He does.
In a twist on the usual evangelism, they've borrowed classics from the '50s through '80s and filled them with references to tax collectors, thorny crowns and the aforementioned Pharisees. It's as if the Beatles went on a major psychedelic trip and instead of writing about Strawberry Fields, somehow stumbled into a church service and got mightily confused.
"Yesterday, Christ was born upon a winter's day . . ." croons Peggie Burnyate, 36, to a melody written, famously, by Paul McCartney. Then there's this little gem: "He met with Pharaoh Monday and he had a talk - Da doo ron ron ron, da doo ron ron."
Cheesy at times
OK, I admit it's cheesy. Somehow, though, the group's enthusiasm makes it work.
Nobody's songs are safe. The band does Jethro Tull, Bruce Springsteen, the Beach Boys, Bob Seger, the Bee Gees, Jerry Lee Lewis, and, yes, the Village People. ("Y not 2 day?" they sing, referring to helping others, not to joining the Y.)
I sat in on a recent practice session of the band, which is called Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show, after a Neil Diamond song.
All the members attend Erlanger United Methodist Church, which is sponsoring a Christian rock concert on July 18.
The man to thank for the lyrics is Mike Buckingham, a 47-year-old electrical engineer from Lakeside Park. He plays electric guitar in the band, having honed his skills on the lounge circuit in the 1970s. ("I was Leisure Suit Larry," he says).
Mr. Buckingham's wife, Jane, sings. Other band members are Pam Rouster, Teresa Turpin, (the wife of the bass player), and the Rev. Gregg Tate, pastor of the church.
Most of us hear Jerry Lee Lewis singing "Great Balls of Fire" and think, "There's Jerry Lee Lewis singing "Great Balls of Fire.' " Mr. Buckingham thinks: "This could be a song about Sodom and Gomorrah."
And that's just what it has become. Where Mr. Lewis sings about a woman shaking his nerves and rattling his brain, this band sings about God telling Lot to high-tail it out of town.
The act isn't as heavy as the lyrics make it sound. Ms. Burnyate hams it up, banging a tambourine against her thigh or pretending to twirl a drumstick in the air. Mr. Buckingham appears to be closing his eyes on some of the guitar riffs.
During breaks, everybody cracks jokes.
IF YOU GO
What: Free Christian Rock Concert. When: 1-7 p.m. Saturday.
Where: Lloyd High School amphitheater, in front of the school at the corner of Barlett and Graves in Erlanger.
What to bring: Blankets, umbrellas for sun. Food can be brought or purchased.
For information: Call 727-2136.
There's an ongoing gag, for instance, about Bad Lyrics That Will Never Be Sung in Public.
One of them, borrowed from the Beach Boys, goes like this: "Wish they all could be Pentacostal girls. . . "
God has sense of humor
Which brings us back to whether God has a sense of humor.
The Rev. Tate votes yes. He plays synthesizer and sings in the band. He also sings to explain himself. Last week, discussing music that would be perfect for the day before Easter, he broke into this: "Oh, it's Saturday night and we ain't got a Jesus - They crucified him and he's gone his way."
Churches need songs that get new people through the doors, the reverend says. Contemporary tunes don't become the message; they merely keep people in their seats long enough to hear it.
"For some people in the congregation, this is absolutely wrong," the reverend says, indicating the electric guitars at the altar. But he figures change has always been controversial. After all, Martin Luther got in trouble for writing Christian lyrics to bar tunes in the 1500s.
Today's traditional music originally was considered radical, too. All those hard-to-sing hymns were once somebody's "Great Balls of Fire."
The Rev. Tate has a vision.
Years from now, he and his fellow rockers will be tucked away in a nursing home somewhere, and word will arrive: The church of their youth is toying with heresy.
"No!" they'll cry. "You can't stop singing Da Doo Ron Ron. I've been singing that for 40 years."
Karen Samples is The Enquirer's Kentucky columnist. Her column appears on Sundays and Thursdays in The Kentucky Enquirer. She can be reached at 578-5584 or email her at ksamples@enquirer.com
