Zedhead Reunion

 

Not far from here, in a parallel dimension, music-lovers are listening to the greatest hits of Zed Whimsy. The band has been busy over there during the past ten years, ever since they met at a Bible school in Cannon Beach, Oregon.

Things happened differently in that other reality. In September of 2001, security agents stopped Abrahamic militants from sealing their faith with the blood of sacrificial victims. As a result, Americans did not rocket into war with fuel from our own religious temperament.

We weren’t so fortunate, here in this dimension. Authorities missed warnings signaled by available information. Shortly before Bible school began, terrorists killed thousands of Americans. Politicians rattled their sabers as citizens marched through the stages of grief.

What was the Christian response? Many of us equated that loud rattling sound with spiritual intelligence, as has been the norm since Constantine dreamed we should follow both Jesus and Mars.

America’s leaders are every bit as realistic as that Christo-Roman emperor. Men feel powerless without our weapons, regardless of what Jesus taught. Who among us would fault Simon Peter for wielding the sword when authorities came to take his teacher’s life? What kind of man won’t fight to save the innocent?

Such questions have long haunted believers, even if unasked. Bible stories test the conscience and instruct many choices that shape our world.

So it came to pass that a little-known group of artists known as Zed Whimsy split up soon after releasing their only album. First one and then two band members joined the military, assuredly serving with honor, like legions before them.

And here we are.

Sometimes they come back and visit me in my workplace, where words invoke other worlds. I still serve behind the counter at my little bookstore between Ecola Bible School and Bella Espresso –the coffee shop where Nellie, Jason, Jeremy, and Seth released “From the Motion Picture Zed Whimsy.”

The first time I saw their CD at Bella, my eyes were magnetically drawn to the cover designed by local artist Donald Masterson. I could feel the creative waters rippling as I looked through the graphics and liner notes. Then I listened to the songs, over and over, as is my practice when I connect with any good music.

After graduation, a number of Ecola alumni remained in Cannon Beach and worked as baristas at Bella Espresso. A diverse fellowship brewed in the village, with Zed playing in the background. I was blessed to witness the magical mixing as young folks imbibed coffee and spirit, occasionally stopping by the bookstore to browse.

One recent morning the crew returned. I arrived to open the store and was welcomed by a couple who were in town attending a ten-year Ecola reunion. Naturally I cranked up Zed to celebrate; a bit too loudly, perhaps, as is my habit in the off-season and on special summer days when the store is stuffed with tourists and I’m feeling frisky.

Let’s pause for a little personal testimony. I can’t imagine the aforementioned couple conversing for more than a few uncomfortable minutes with my predecessor at the bookstore — a hardshell hippie who had little patience for Christendom’s more outspoken wards. We’ve had our moments, too, when it was clear the couple and I disagreed on matters pertaining to theology, politics, or pop culture.

I felt my skin crawl, for example, when they carried a stuffed lizard into the store and told me it was a memento for mission work to provide steak filets for the prison guards at Guantanamo. At such times we’ve debated our convictions, always circling round to common ground where we were able to depart on good terms.

There have been a few tight squeezes, I confess. One occurred while I was pontificating on Christian music.

“Unfortunately,” I began, raising a hipper-than-thou brow, “some people lump all Christian music into the same pile of dated groups like Stryper. The genre has expanded, as evidenced by Zed Whimsy. And there are other artists who deserve a closer look.”

“Now hold on,” countered the husband, “I like Zed, but I’m also a huge Stryper fan. In fact ‘The Best of Stryper’ is one of my all-time favorite albums!”

Oops. I’d never really listened to the band credited with pioneering Christian heavy metal in the 1980s. I’d seen a photo of Stryper in a magazine, back in the day, posed in their trademark black-and-yellow attire. But that was all that shaped my opinion of the band.

Turns out Stryper has been quite successful. Several years ago they reunited for a 25^thanniversary tour. At the same time, co-founder Michael Sweet performed with the super-group Boston, sharing lead vocals and guitar on classic hits like “More Than a Feeling.”

Truth is, my musical leanings are closer to that teen anthem than Stryper’s inaugural battle hymn “Soldiers Under Command.” I’ve just never been part of the metal militia. Plus I think salutes to spiritual warfare can easily trigger the virus of violence. Nevertheless, I found it profound to learn that Stryper’s last album covered songs by Black Sabbath, KISS, Ozzy Osbourne, Iron Maiden, and Judas Priest. In that context, Stryper has extended the Christian bounds.

In high school I was friends with a hard-core metalhead we dubbed “Dan the Devilman” because of his intense demeanor and fondness for demonic-looking fashions. He tended to scare people, yet I knew him to be a good guy. Once, while showing me his record collection, he told me his favorite songs were really about God.

“Are God and the devil really the same?” he asked, eyes lit with fey fire. And at that moment, I didn’t have an answer. His faith seemed to have found its own center of gravity which didn’t feel threatening to mine.

My Bible school buddy and I worked it out too, with music and on other fronts. At some point it became clear that we were going to remain friends in spite of our differences. That’s my testimony. However much those differences matter, a deeper bond of brotherly love has helped us move through tight squeezes and emerge in beatitude.

I was swimming in those welcome waters when Zed’s drummer dropped by the bookstore later that morning of the reunion, along with a flurry of Ecola alumni. Seth stood there patiently as I tried to convey my gratitude for music that praised God while broadening community in the process.

The youthful gathering prompted memories of my own exodus from the stadiums of high school. Sure, thirty years ago I roared with young lions in front of mass-commercial groups like Boston. But my tastes evolved at college as I embraced bands like the Grateful Dead, the Talking Heads, and New Grass Revival. I came to enjoy a range of artists — from acoustic bards like Bryan Bowers and Holly Near to techie explorers like King Crimson and Laurie Anderson. Plus I liked The Roches and John Prine. And Jonathan Richman, go figure.

Back in those days I was also picking banjo with a guitar-strumming friend from the dorm. We shared our favorite songs with anyone who would listen. I learned the best places to commune with the muse were porches, parks, campfires, and out in the middle of nowhere.

My wife Jennifer loves Zed Whimsy as much as I do. For her, their songs bring back sweet memories of singing at a church camp near Mount Rainier. I think of them as Beat Christian because of their coffee shop genesis and percussive vibe. Following their CD release party at Bella Espresso, I imagined them surfing a hip new spiritual wave across the country. And they did, in a parallel dimension in which I too kept playing music rather than putting aside the banjo.

Since the reunion I’ve felt that other world reaching out to ours. One evening, during my half-hour drive home from work, I spontaneously did something I haven’t done in ages. Rather than listen to the same old depressing news of the empire, I turned off the radio and sang the whole way back. When I got home, I retrieved my banjo from the cobwebs.

Several days later, while immersed in this post, I phoned a friend to chat about music and spirit. Much of our conversation focused on the Grateful Dead. We discussed how the band’s songs weren’t overtly anti-war, yet cultivated a peaceful subculture. Somehow this reminded me of the story about what happened when the authorities came to arrest Jesus; how the prince of peace told Simon Peter to sheath his sword, then healed a man’s ear that was severed.

“Maybe it’s signicant, the fact that it was an ear,” observed my friend.

Zed Whimsy recently set up a Facebook page to connect with folks who’ve been trying to contact them over the past 10 years. As of yet the page doesn’t include links to songs, which they say are uncopyrighted gifts to God. But it’s clear band members are still playing, and a reference to their “first and so far only album” prompts this Zedhead to hope there are more to come.

Here’s a whimsical appetizer.

Blessed are those who hear spirit in music. Sometimes I feel flooded with faith, humming in the shower, knowing a more peaceable realm is coming.

Those moments are usually fleeting and separate from the rest of my daily routines. Yet my soul homes toward a place where lions lie down with lambs, and humans beat swords into plowshares.

Thank God for every ripple of song that moves us closer to that reality.