It is a literal
rock n roll daydream. Every day a new band sets up in the parent’s
(or aunt’s or uncle’s or cousin’s or older brother’s
or grandma’s-ok maybe not grandma’s) garage and proceeds to
crank out those three chords from “Louie, Louie” (or “Smoke
On the Water” or “Beat On the Brat” or “Iron Man”
or “You Really Got Me”, you get the idea). From the first
time those three, simple yet magnificent, chords are executed, eyes sparkle,
skin tingles, ears bleed and self-satisfied smiles materialize as the
novice musicians begin living the rock n roll dream. And if the jams are
excellent, their songs will be plastered all over the radio and MTV with
superstar-studded appearances with Carson Daly on TRL, and, ultimately,
that little black triangle will be next to their album title on the Billboard
200 charts signifying platinum sales status. As you, the discerning hard
music listener, can see, this did indeed happen to P.O.D. This isn’t
all there is to P.O.D. This band is not defined by their success or by
your expectations.
I am writing this high above the planet earth on a United Airlines flight
from Philadelphia, PA; destination Des Moines, IA; remembering August
18, 2000. I was in attendance at the Purple Door Music and Arts Festival
in Lancaster, PA. Purple Door is a typical Christian-themed rock festival
complete with a multi-stage setup and a largish merchandise tent where
the tattooed, the pierced, the rock-n-rollers become slaves to the profit
motive. Why I was at the festival isn’t really important. Several
of us (a couple indie label shysters, a musician, and a writer and his
girlfriend) were talking about our desire to check out P.O.D. Southtown
was selling well and the band made several appearances on MTV. The amazing
thing about this show is that the band was on the OzzFest 2000 tour but
chose to play this little festival on a day off. From hell to heaven,
or is it the other way around. Never mind that, I must get these thoughts
down.
It was Friday night, the eighteenth. I remember leaving the merch table
to venture out into the Pennsylvania summer night as the emcee was announcing
P.O.D. I quickened my step as I heard the opening heavy-as-a-punching-bag
riff hammer the audience and then the lead singer, dreadlocks writhing
as if they were Medusa’s snakes on speed, belts out a … a
something I don’t remember, but it had to do with yelling a slogan
from their record, I guess. The crowd collectively inhaled and began pogo-ing
to the rat-a-tat beats and heavy-yet-funkified bass lines. The lead singer,
was calling for the crowd to keep it going, to jump, to dance, to raise
their hands in the air, and yes, wave them like they just don’t
care. I strain to remember (my head hurts, not only hurts but throbs;
the rock is hard on my pop-fetish mind; it’s not easy being thirty-one,
I don’t recover like I used to in 1995) the crowd, a tribal dance
troupe in the black of night being splashed with lasers, halogen lamp
lights, and colorful celluloid covered spotlights. It was equally primal
and disturbing. This mass of flesh wriggling and squirming like a viscous
liquid responding to every yell, every fist, every jump from the dreadlocked
banshee of testosterone named Sonny.
Snapping me back to reality was a bug, a mosquito, in my ear competing
with guitar blasts and the tightest rhythm section this side of alterna-hardcore-metal.
I slapped my ear. The mosquito died, but the eardrum was still delivering
the sonic assault of P.O.D. to my brain rather than usual tuning fork
ring.
Get this; I notice a ladder leaning against the six-foot stage in the
DMZ of Purple Door’s Mainstage (a three-foot space between the stage
and the screaming throng, which is filled every few feet by security guards).
As I notice this, I see Sonny descend, I knew in my heart he wasn’t
going to let there be separation between him and the crowd. He climbs
down, smartly leaving the microphone behind, and enters his audience.
Immediately, rabid fans swallow him. I see a serious clamor; it almost
looks like Sonny has been smothered as the crowd dips down, like a giant
invisible thumb pushed on their backs. Miraculously, the crowd begins
to rise up, and I see the top of Sonny’s head shaking from side
to side with the rhythms of his band mates, dreads whipping fans in the
face. Slowly he rises, stops, (somebody pinch me, I think I am in Detroit
circa 1972) then like an Iggy Rock N Roll Messiah, the crowd lifts him
high. As they extend their arms completely, Sonny raises his fist and
yells so that the thousands of fans from front to back can hear him. He
surveys his audience; he points to people, to his band, and then, where
else can he point, to Heaven. You know what he means, this is not a gimmick,
and you know this a man who is connecting with the audience and with his
Maker. P.O.D. owned the thousands that evening.
That’s when and where my fascination with this ethnically diverse,
Bad Brains loving, hyper-kinetic, hard-as-steel, tattooed-the-earth, hammer-your-head-bloody-riff-ripping
band began. As a writer, I always have my finger on the pulse of the rock
scene (secular and sacred mind you), thus I knew about P.O.D. They had
been dominating the underground scene for a few years and made quite a
splash at the annual Cornerstone festival, but I never realized the magnitude
of their reach. I didn’t want this to happen, and I definitely did
not expect it.
“Ever since we started playing shows years ago, and we always felt
like, we aren’t going to please everyone. People are going to see
us, they are going to agree or disagree. Or they are going to hate us.
Whether they believe [in God] or not, we always felt they are always going
to respect us,” Sonny tells me over a less than desirable phone
connection. This is one of the central tenets of P.O.D.: respect. They
demand it, they expect it, and they give it.
By the way, talking with Sonny is an adventure. He is a conversationalist
in the purest sense of the term. Really he has to be, his voice is warm
and filled with energy, it’s unreal. He takes you down certain roads,
creating scenarios complete with conversations in which he plays roles
for both parties of the conversation. Wuv radiates the same charisma,
the same kindness, and the same humility. I’m not making this up,
this is how these guys really are, they really are this… this…
normal. Actually, they aren’t normal because normal for million
record selling musicians doesn’t include humility and discussions
on paying bills and how much they love their families. They should be
whining about the smelly tour bus, telling me sordid stories of do-anything
groupies, or name-dropping celebrity fans.
The band refuses to be disrespectful or arrogant, whether it’s when
hanging out with bands on a high profile mainstream tour (OzzFest) or
headlining some obscure Christian rock festival (Purple Door). Sonny admits
he does have the urge to get in someone’s face if they mock his
or his band’s beliefs, but he realizes angry confrontation is counterproductive.
At the same time, he isn’t going to walk away tail between his legs
like some emasculated nit. “I know that because of what I believe
in it demands the same kind of respect. So I have to watch myself because
then the old me starts to come out,” he laughs, “The new me
is all about love and, obviously, I’m not going to tear somebody
apart to get my point across or put somebody down to get my point across.
It’s like hey man, if someone’s going to spit in my face,
well, I’m not a punching bag. I’m going to stand my ground.
It’s like take your best shot.”
It’s going to happen. It’s inevitable when you put God in
the mix. There will be kids at OzzFest flipping the band off because they
are the “Christian Rock Band.” Then the next week when they
are playing the Cornerstone Festival, Christian rock fans will be whispering
about “selling out” or that they are “too worldly.”
P.O.D. have an uncanny ability to balance their personal faith with their
outward expressions of that faith. There is no way to separate their faith
in God and who they are as a band. Wuv explains, “I don’t
really think the band talks about it or thinks about it like that. All
we can really do is tell our story, and leave the rest to God.”
Sonny says, “I don’t believe that I have to fight this battle
of my faith. When I see somebody when we are hanging out, they can be
the total opposite of me. But it’s like ‘Hey, let’s
enjoy our dinner [laughs], I’m not gonna not talk to you because
I haven’t sensed you don’t really know God, because you don’t
really have an understanding, you don’t have a knowledge about it.
Let’s just talk about life in general. Let’s hang out!’
Ya know what I mean?” This brand of laissez-faire theology has served
P.O.D. well. This is not some sort of sanitized party line; this matter-of-factness
that can only be interpreted as genuine. Sonny goes on; “I don’t
introduce myself as the Christian Sonny and if you’re not a Christian
then get of my way! We can do whatever; we can hang out. You are gonna
know who I am, by my character that I am trying to do the best that I
can, that my life will reflect what I believe in.”
P.O.D. does not have a hidden agenda. They are not charlatan rock n roll
minstrels armed with some really boss tunes to lure unsuspecting children
into their Church of God Rock. Sonny doesn’t even concern himself
with labels, “That can’t be our focus: ‘Oh we’re
gonna show them, we’re gonna show people we’re this kind of
band.’ You just pray and know that God will take care of it.”
Love motivates P.O.D. to keep going and keep playing music. Not only is
it their love of making music, music that can tear the roof off the house,
that can “rock the party”, but also love that can simultaneously
rid the mind, body, and soul of aggression, and refill it with a satisfied
peace.
It’s all about love. This love permeates the P.O.D. philosophy (as
if it is even worthwhile to use such a high-brow word as “philosophy.”).
“I think with this new record, I think you can take it in a subtle
way, this album is just kinda talking about love and how all you need
is to use that little section of the heart, and God will go wild with
it,” Sonny says explaining the lyrical direction of the new record.
This isn’t early seventies Jesus Movement hippy love junk, but a
genuine compassion (gasp!). It’s the truth sort of love. You know,
love is patient and kind and slow to anger and doesn’t punch you
in the face when asked about the future of rapcore.
The most glaring and excellent example of this love is the relationship
between P.O.D. and their families. Not only are they devoted to their
families, but they continue to spend time with them despite their success.
Yes, P.O.D. still lives in the same neighborhood. It’s true, quit
laughing and shaking your head. “This how I am going to be. This
is my life, this is my family, this is my friends, this is where I love
to be. I love to hang around with people who love me and I love them,”
explains Sonny on why they haven’t bolted to the swanky pimp-daddy
mansion of the Hollywood hills.
“They are definitely the ones who inspired P.O.D. from the beginning.
They are the ones that took P.O.D. in while on tours, they were the ones
who put on shows, they were so faithful to helping us out,” Wuv
says remembering the early days of P.O.D. and the relationship with their
fans. The band refers to them (diehard or not) as Warriors. I had to ask,
“How do I sign up?” Sonny says, “It’s not necessarily
a sign up thing, it’s just if you are down with us.” Many
Warriors go much further than just being “down” with the band.
They help coordinate street promotions by handing out stickers and flyers
at hard music shows, they call into radio and MTV requesting P.O.D. songs,
and they simply offer encouragement and support to the band through e-mail
and snail mail. The band literally sees their fans as an extension of
their own families.
In August, the band returns with Satellite, a record that promises to
challenge the listener with more melodies and harmonies while maintaining
that trademark P.O.D blend of Bad Brains, riff-heavy hardcore, and Old
Skool hip-hop. “The last album is over two years old, it feels good
to have some new songs done. I love them man. They are just awesome. It
is a little different, but so has every album we’ve done. It’s
probably my favorite album that we have ever done,” explains Wuv.
80s icons HR (of Bad Brains) and raga/dancehall musician Eek-A-Mouse both
contribute vocals to the record, which was a dream come true for the band.
As many of a journalist has written, the future looks bright for this
band.
To paraphrase a song from 1992, “The world needs another preachy
holier-than-thou Christian rock band, like I need a hole in my head.”
P.O.D. sets a brilliant example of how to live a faith-based life without
being self-righteous or judgmental, simply by letting their actions speak
for their words. And that is the key: they are a group of action. P.O.D.
has achieved tremendous success by being real and exhibiting a humility
that is neither obligatory nor sanctimonious. P.O.D. are first to admit
that they are not perfect and continue to struggle every day, but they
also acknowledge they hope and motivation they derive from their faith.
From that late night show in Pennsylvania to the present, P.O.D. has done
nothing but maintain as normal of a course as they possibly could in the
midst of all this success. Perhaps Sonny put it best, “If we go
out in love, then God will do the rest.” Each and every one of us
could learn a lot from that single statement. This is why P.O.D. is the
most important rock band today. |