The Jesus Music (2021)
Teaching to the Choir
I measure documentaries on whether or not they compel me to learn more about their subject matter once the credits roll. I’ve rarely seen a “bad” doc, as even the most shabbily put-together ones have something to teach. But the difference between “good” and “great” comes down to how quickly I buy the books, watch the movies, or simply Google the lives and works of the people and/or events spotlighted by the narrative. Sometimes I forget key figures’ names the next day (this happens with fictional movies, too); sometimes, as with Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinfosky’s Paradise Lost films, the imagery, themes, and ideas haunt me a decade later.
In the case of The Jesus Music, sibling co-directors Jon and Andrew Erwin have not only created one of the year’s best and most enlightening films, I’m convinced they altered some of the neural pathways in my brain.
As the title suggests, the film seeks to tell a comprehensive history of Christian Contemporary Music, otherwise known as “CCM”, and initially dubbed “The Jesus Music.” As a former Catholic and current agnostic, the movie pulled off the miraculous double-feat of dispelling a lot of my preconceived notions about the artists and communities that spawned the genre, while also answering many of my skeptic’s-brain questions almost as soon as they’d formed.
I had no idea, for example, that CCM began as a movement among disillusioned hippies in the late 1960s. Fed up with a pointless draft fueled by a pointless war; scarred by social upheaval; and devastated by OD’ing rock stars and the assassinations of change-minded young leaders, scores of wayward, free-loving souls found their way to the Calvary Chapel in Costa Mesa, CA. There, they fashioned a new kind of worship, modeled after the communal rock concert experience, but focused on what they perceived to be an incorruptible path toward hope.
Rising stars like Larry Norman eschewed staid church hymns for the hard-driving sounds of Zeppelin and Hendrix—tweaking the delivery system with cheeky songs like “Why Should The Devil Have All The Good Music?”, while keeping the Christian message intact.
This didn’t sit well with the more traditionalist elements of various churches, and so began a decades-long philosophical battle of the “proper” way to save souls: messenger versus message, packaging versus product. As CCM evolved with the times, eventually encompassing every movement from Easy Listening to Hip-Hop to, yes, Heavy Metal, creators often experienced very public denunciation of their works from the very institutions they’d set out to support.
Indeed, one of the Erwin Brothers’ most effective throughlines is the multi-billion-dollar industry’s undergirding of hypocrisy, and the often heartbreaking toll it can take on some artists. The double standards aren’t limited to musical style, though. The history of CCM mirrors the times over which it has evolved, with issues of race, prosperity, and morality coming up as consistent topics of debate in the subculture. There are some key distinctions, though, in the way in which the ultimate goals of some of these movements manifest in the Contemporary Christian Music landscape—as opposed to narratives often found in secular media.
For example, the Erwins don’t shy away from tackling the ongoing segregation of Black Christian entertainment from White Christian entertainment (these shorthand terms are mine, not theirs). Though not true in all cases, there are racial demos within CCM fandom that favor Hip Hop, and those that prefer Country—with much of the genre spotlighting so-called “White music” over “Black music”.
But Black CCM entertainers like Kirk Franklin and Lecrae don’t use their platforms to decry institutional racism or push for a strictly identity-based sector of the CCM machine. Nor do Amy Grant and Michael W. Smith lash themselves with performative public guilt while doing nothing to advance artists of color. The ideal path is presented as continually collaborating with and promoting each other with the goal of bringing the message to as many different kinds of people as possible—regardless of what the clueless, set-in-its-ways superstructure may have in mind (which creates a beautiful synergy with CCM’s hippie roots).
Some might consider The Jesus Music’s major blindspot to be a failure to examine issues of non-heteronormative sexuality within CCM. I normally wouldn’t care about such things, except that the Erwins go out of their way to show how the genre and its practitioners contend with major social concerns. Perhaps that avenue will be explored in More Jesus Music. (or Jesus Music Vol. 2 or Now That’s What I Call Jesus Music; okay, I’ll stop).
For those of you who aren’t familiar with CCM, you might wonder, “Well, how is the music?”
It’s great. Though this isn’t a concert film piled high with song-length performances, it did give me a big enough taste of the music’s various forms to want to hear more (except for the Metal stuff, no offense to the passionate and upstanding members of Stryper).
Going into the movie, I’d expected a lot of cheesy, preachy Gospel songs full of moralizing and condemnation. What I found were songs written and performed by self-professed flawed people grappling with relatable Big Picture questions. And I don’t mean “flawed” in the generic Christian conception that everyone is fallen from grace. I’m talking about artists who’ve struggled with infidelity, substance abuse, family suicide, and myriad other problems, who poured that trauma into their music—no different than Johnny Cash, Mötley Crüe, or Dr. Dre.
The music and the message won’t be for everyone. But what music and which messages are truly universal, anyway? The Jesus Music doesn’t indulge in heavy-handed proselytization; The Erwin Brothers leave it up to the audience to decide how moved they will be on the Life Change spectrum, which runs the gamut from turning one’s life over to Christ to giving CCM a chance to simply not furrowing one’s brow when hearing the phrase “Jesus Music”.
Watch Ian’s interview with The Jesus Music co-directors Jon and Andrew Erwin!
