ENG 233
30 November 2010
When the bleak, unsettling strain of a viol begins on the song “Slota Prow–Full Armour” by David Eugene Edwards, it would be difficult to imagine the music of another David, playing his harp in the court of Saul to ease the king’s suffering and please the Lord. But there are more than musical chords which link David strumming his harp in Saul’s narrative from the Tanakah to the modern David channeling the power of spirit like an electrical charge through the tightened and tunes coiled metal strings of his more contemporary harp, a Gretsch guitar. Like David before Saul, Edwards has taken up the task of being armor-bearer for his king to defend against the forces of darkness.
The structure of the song—for purposes of narrative comparison—is broken in five movements: the viol intro; a description of how the Word is lame when written or spoken; the glossolalia; a bridge; and a concluding declaration from Ephesians. These movements will correspond to selections from the Tanakah and the Pauline epistles to form a sort of Biblical narrative in song and (pun not intended) verse.
The narrative of such a story begins with Saul’s affliction:
When David was sent to Saul’s court, it is said that Saul was very fond of him and David “became [Saul’s] armor-bearer.” A verse later the famous musical association is revealed: “[W]henever the spirit from God came over Saul, David would take a harp and play; Saul would then be soothed; it would do him good, and the evil spirit would leave him” (1 Sam. 16:21, 23).
This sets the scene for the intro to “Slota Prow–Full Armour.” The tone of this viol beginning the song is not merely unsettling—indeed, it quickly becomes bleak, disturbed—its modulations paint an Apocalyptic landscape more befitting a painting by Brueghel or Boshe than church psalms and hymnals, or even the overwhelming majority of modern “Christian” popular music. But this tone reflects the struggle of the human soul, torn by conflict and afflicted, like Saul, with temptation and human depravity. Its timbered strains seem to say that without darkness light can never be experienced. Without falling into, as Edwards points out in another musical piece, that without falling into their own “corners of Sodom,” a human soul cannot experience the redemption of the Word of Yahweh. And the Word brings about the first lyrics of the song.
With a musical percussive that sounds like a fallen body, Edwards begins the self-referential spoken word word movement by proclaiming, “It reads lame now written down / It is frail now that it makes its sound.” This shows the difference between the Word of God—“the Word that was with God and the Word that was God,” as the Gospel of John states from its very beginning—and the words that are used to describe the divine. The Word is the sound uttered at the moment of creation while words are used by humans to describe the world created around them. As I Samuel points out, “The Glory of Israel, however, does not lie or go back on his word, not being human and liable to go back on his word” (15:29), which indicates the word of God is vastly different than the word of humans. Jeremiah asks people to “listen … to Yahweh's word, let your ears take in the word his own mouth speaks” (9:19). But, as Edwards indicates in his lyric, that word becomes cripple and weak when confined by human usage.
It is from this inability to handle the Word of God that leads to the question of what use then is human language if it is unable to withstand such power? Edwards answers this question with the next movement when—in a rush of “sound as of a violent wind”—he is beset by what is described in Acts of the Apostles as having tongues of flame come upon him and, “filled with the Holy Spirit,” Edwards begins to speak a different language, “as the Spirit gave ... power to express” (2:1). This “violent wind” is a translation of a word that in both Hebrew and Greek means both “Spirit” and “Breath” (NJB, fn. c. 1801), and certainly what follows comes out in what is understood to be a violent rush of wind, breath, and Holy Spirit. Edwards glossolalia is rendered as “Prashnom moldich svetoven … Vashene osh miashte / Endevik saferen seduc / Bullvenya oshkye … Moldich fudjok eveshek prashene / Tovet dotchen oshkye / Vana ratache oshvende / Dok bledsin dok slota prow...”*
There are five places in the Gospels and Epistles where speaking in tongues is explicitly mentioned, and at least two other instances which refer to the phenomena. The Old Prophet Isaiah says, “with stammering lips and in a foreign language, he will talk to this nation (28:11), while Paul’s Letter to the Romans describes how “the Spirit too comes to help us in our weakness, for, when ... the Spirit makes our petitions for us in groans that cannot be put into words” (8:26). The Gospel of Mark famously mentions snake-handling after his glossolalia reference of “signs that will be associated with believers: in my name they will cast out devils; they will have the gift of tongues” (16:17), while the second chapter of Acts mentions the wind of Breath and Spirit, later in that book believers are astonished when the Holy Spirit pours on people who “strange languages and proclaim the greatness of God” (10:45). In 1 Corinthians 12-14, Paul discusses speaking in “various kinds of tongues” as part of a wider discussion concerning the gifts of the Spirit; his remarks shed light on his own speaking in tongues as well as how the gift of speaking in tongues was to be used in the church: “I shall sing praises with the spirit and I shall sing praises with the mind as well” (14:15). In a final reference, which links directly back to the musical odyssey, Acts relates the instance of Paul’s journey to Ephesus, when he “laid hands” upon a dozen men and “the Holy Spirit came down on them, and they began to speak with tongues and to prophesy” (19:6). It is to Ephesus the song’s narrative journeys following the Spirit’s descent upon the singer.
During this glossolalia movement of the song, it could easily be imagined that such singing comes from a turn-of-the century tent revival. In a presentation paper, theological scholar Richard M. Riss quotes Ruth Carter in describing one such singing in tongues episode which dates from 1918. “An agnostic musician” is passing a Mission Room in Los Angeles when “[t]he sound of music attracted him into the church building. He … heard singing” and “stopped to listen—such harmony, such blending of chords he had never heard.” He went in and question a member of the church:
Riss goes on to say that music is “one of the most important sources for praise and worship choruses … ‘singing in the Spirit’ … can be the most concentrated and supernatural setting in which this form of worship has taken place” (“Singing in the Spirit”). Despite the menacing overtones of the music, this “singing in the Spirit” is exactly what Edwards is doing in “Slota Prow–Full Armour.”
Following a brief musical bridge which links the two titled sections of the song—like an interlude between the Hebrew Prophets of the Tanakah and the Gospels which form the foundation of the New Testament—a piano begins with a slow but determined scale which results in a lifting of the musical doom, only to be replaced with an atmosphere of concerted imploring. Like one of the Old Prophets, David Eugene Edwards takes on the sound of a oracle as he extolls the listener to understand what is needed to battle such forces as Paul’s letter to the Ephesians details: “Put on the full armour of God … [f]or it is not against human enemies that we have to struggle, but against the principalities and the ruling forces who are masters of the darkness in this world” (6:11-12).
Edwards navigates this dark path where those without sight and who speak only with the power of the Holy Spirit lead the way. Those who tread this path face not adversaries of flesh and blood but the very “spirits of evil in the heavens” (Eph. 6:12). “In the helmet of his salvation,” the lyrics tells us, quoting almost verbatim from scripture, “With his belt of truth / The chestplate of his righteousness / And his gospel boots / In full armour...” In the guise of a modern musical song, albeit one built upon strange nodes and chords played and sung by what might seem to be preternatural hands and voice, listeners learn what it is like on the front lines of a spiritual battle between light and darkness, and what is needed to defend one’s own soul against malign domination. “By the sword of the spirit / And the shield of faith,” Edwards instructs before reminding again the would-be combatants that it is not a battle for this world, but of another—“Not of hands / Not of man / A holy work of grace / In full armour / He turns my cheek / In full armour / Contrite and meek / In full armour...” His voice rises, over the din of musical battle to call unto the heavens from out the darkness encroaching upon his soul. The warning is clear: no one will be spared this final judgment; we arm ourselves against the foul spirits, or we are overtaken. Here are the weapons, this song says, it is your choice to take up arms against evil principalities.
Although it is not told in the Bible, there is a theological saying from the counter-reformer, St. Teresa of Ávila, which tells of how “Christ has no body now but yours / No hands, no feet on earth but yours / Yours are the eyes through which He looks / compassion on this world / Christ has no body now on earth but yours.” David, playing his harp in the court of Saul, would be one of the first to agree. His fingers seemed guided by the breath and spirit of Yahweh to ease the afflicted soul of his earthly king. David Eugene Edwards performing his own brand of hellfire lyrics and brimstone rock is certainly an example of using his hands to forge a holy work of grace. In hearing “Slota Prow–Full Armour” it seems, that like Saul beset by spirits; like David playing to keep the darkness at bay; like Martin Luther concerned with evil’s grip upon this world; Edwards can do no other.
Edwards, David Eugene. “Slota Prow–Full Armour.” Mosaic. Glitterhouse Records, 2006. CD.
———. “Dirty Blue.” Mosaic. Glitterhouse Records, 2006. CD.
The New Jerusalem Bible. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1985. Print.
Riss, Richard M. “Singing in the Spirit in the Holiness, Pentecostal, Latter Rain, and Charismatic Movements.” North American Renewal Service Committee. Orlando. 28 July 1995. Paper presentation.
Saint Teresa of Ávila. The Interior Castle. New York: Image /Doubleday, 2004. Print.
~•~
30 November 2010
A Holy Work of Grace:
The Glossolalia Narrative in “Slota Prow–Full Armour” by David Eugene Edwards
The Glossolalia Narrative in “Slota Prow–Full Armour” by David Eugene Edwards
When the bleak, unsettling strain of a viol begins on the song “Slota Prow–Full Armour” by David Eugene Edwards, it would be difficult to imagine the music of another David, playing his harp in the court of Saul to ease the king’s suffering and please the Lord. But there are more than musical chords which link David strumming his harp in Saul’s narrative from the Tanakah to the modern David channeling the power of spirit like an electrical charge through the tightened and tunes coiled metal strings of his more contemporary harp, a Gretsch guitar. Like David before Saul, Edwards has taken up the task of being armor-bearer for his king to defend against the forces of darkness.
The structure of the song—for purposes of narrative comparison—is broken in five movements: the viol intro; a description of how the Word is lame when written or spoken; the glossolalia; a bridge; and a concluding declaration from Ephesians. These movements will correspond to selections from the Tanakah and the Pauline epistles to form a sort of Biblical narrative in song and (pun not intended) verse.
The narrative of such a story begins with Saul’s affliction:
Now the spirit of Yahweh had withdrawn from Saul, and an evil spirit from Yahweh afflicted him with terrors. Saul's servants said to him, ‘An evil spirit from God is undoubtedly the cause of your terrors. Let our lord give the order, and your servants who wait on you will look for a skilled harpist; when the evil spirit from God comes over you, he will play and it will do you good.’ Saul said to his attendants, ‘Find me, please, a man who plays well, and bring him to me.’ (NJB, 1 Samuel 16:14-17)
When David was sent to Saul’s court, it is said that Saul was very fond of him and David “became [Saul’s] armor-bearer.” A verse later the famous musical association is revealed: “[W]henever the spirit from God came over Saul, David would take a harp and play; Saul would then be soothed; it would do him good, and the evil spirit would leave him” (1 Sam. 16:21, 23).
This sets the scene for the intro to “Slota Prow–Full Armour.” The tone of this viol beginning the song is not merely unsettling—indeed, it quickly becomes bleak, disturbed—its modulations paint an Apocalyptic landscape more befitting a painting by Brueghel or Boshe than church psalms and hymnals, or even the overwhelming majority of modern “Christian” popular music. But this tone reflects the struggle of the human soul, torn by conflict and afflicted, like Saul, with temptation and human depravity. Its timbered strains seem to say that without darkness light can never be experienced. Without falling into, as Edwards points out in another musical piece, that without falling into their own “corners of Sodom,” a human soul cannot experience the redemption of the Word of Yahweh. And the Word brings about the first lyrics of the song.
With a musical percussive that sounds like a fallen body, Edwards begins the self-referential spoken word word movement by proclaiming, “It reads lame now written down / It is frail now that it makes its sound.” This shows the difference between the Word of God—“the Word that was with God and the Word that was God,” as the Gospel of John states from its very beginning—and the words that are used to describe the divine. The Word is the sound uttered at the moment of creation while words are used by humans to describe the world created around them. As I Samuel points out, “The Glory of Israel, however, does not lie or go back on his word, not being human and liable to go back on his word” (15:29), which indicates the word of God is vastly different than the word of humans. Jeremiah asks people to “listen … to Yahweh's word, let your ears take in the word his own mouth speaks” (9:19). But, as Edwards indicates in his lyric, that word becomes cripple and weak when confined by human usage.
It is from this inability to handle the Word of God that leads to the question of what use then is human language if it is unable to withstand such power? Edwards answers this question with the next movement when—in a rush of “sound as of a violent wind”—he is beset by what is described in Acts of the Apostles as having tongues of flame come upon him and, “filled with the Holy Spirit,” Edwards begins to speak a different language, “as the Spirit gave ... power to express” (2:1). This “violent wind” is a translation of a word that in both Hebrew and Greek means both “Spirit” and “Breath” (NJB, fn. c. 1801), and certainly what follows comes out in what is understood to be a violent rush of wind, breath, and Holy Spirit. Edwards glossolalia is rendered as “Prashnom moldich svetoven … Vashene osh miashte / Endevik saferen seduc / Bullvenya oshkye … Moldich fudjok eveshek prashene / Tovet dotchen oshkye / Vana ratache oshvende / Dok bledsin dok slota prow...”*
----
*. When written, this resembles Old Slavonic, while audibly, it sounds akin to Romany. However, other than a few scattered syllables, these phrases do not belong to any known language.
----
There are five places in the Gospels and Epistles where speaking in tongues is explicitly mentioned, and at least two other instances which refer to the phenomena. The Old Prophet Isaiah says, “with stammering lips and in a foreign language, he will talk to this nation (28:11), while Paul’s Letter to the Romans describes how “the Spirit too comes to help us in our weakness, for, when ... the Spirit makes our petitions for us in groans that cannot be put into words” (8:26). The Gospel of Mark famously mentions snake-handling after his glossolalia reference of “signs that will be associated with believers: in my name they will cast out devils; they will have the gift of tongues” (16:17), while the second chapter of Acts mentions the wind of Breath and Spirit, later in that book believers are astonished when the Holy Spirit pours on people who “strange languages and proclaim the greatness of God” (10:45). In 1 Corinthians 12-14, Paul discusses speaking in “various kinds of tongues” as part of a wider discussion concerning the gifts of the Spirit; his remarks shed light on his own speaking in tongues as well as how the gift of speaking in tongues was to be used in the church: “I shall sing praises with the spirit and I shall sing praises with the mind as well” (14:15). In a final reference, which links directly back to the musical odyssey, Acts relates the instance of Paul’s journey to Ephesus, when he “laid hands” upon a dozen men and “the Holy Spirit came down on them, and they began to speak with tongues and to prophesy” (19:6). It is to Ephesus the song’s narrative journeys following the Spirit’s descent upon the singer.
During this glossolalia movement of the song, it could easily be imagined that such singing comes from a turn-of-the century tent revival. In a presentation paper, theological scholar Richard M. Riss quotes Ruth Carter in describing one such singing in tongues episode which dates from 1918. “An agnostic musician” is passing a Mission Room in Los Angeles when “[t]he sound of music attracted him into the church building. He … heard singing” and “stopped to listen—such harmony, such blending of chords he had never heard.” He went in and question a member of the church:
“What is this?”
“This is a gospel meeting.”
“But who taught the people to sing like that?”
“No one taught them. It is God.”
“But how did they learn such harmony?”
“They did not learn it; it was given by the Holy Spirit.”
Riss goes on to say that music is “one of the most important sources for praise and worship choruses … ‘singing in the Spirit’ … can be the most concentrated and supernatural setting in which this form of worship has taken place” (“Singing in the Spirit”). Despite the menacing overtones of the music, this “singing in the Spirit” is exactly what Edwards is doing in “Slota Prow–Full Armour.”
Following a brief musical bridge which links the two titled sections of the song—like an interlude between the Hebrew Prophets of the Tanakah and the Gospels which form the foundation of the New Testament—a piano begins with a slow but determined scale which results in a lifting of the musical doom, only to be replaced with an atmosphere of concerted imploring. Like one of the Old Prophets, David Eugene Edwards takes on the sound of a oracle as he extolls the listener to understand what is needed to battle such forces as Paul’s letter to the Ephesians details: “Put on the full armour of God … [f]or it is not against human enemies that we have to struggle, but against the principalities and the ruling forces who are masters of the darkness in this world” (6:11-12).
Edwards navigates this dark path where those without sight and who speak only with the power of the Holy Spirit lead the way. Those who tread this path face not adversaries of flesh and blood but the very “spirits of evil in the heavens” (Eph. 6:12). “In the helmet of his salvation,” the lyrics tells us, quoting almost verbatim from scripture, “With his belt of truth / The chestplate of his righteousness / And his gospel boots / In full armour...” In the guise of a modern musical song, albeit one built upon strange nodes and chords played and sung by what might seem to be preternatural hands and voice, listeners learn what it is like on the front lines of a spiritual battle between light and darkness, and what is needed to defend one’s own soul against malign domination. “By the sword of the spirit / And the shield of faith,” Edwards instructs before reminding again the would-be combatants that it is not a battle for this world, but of another—“Not of hands / Not of man / A holy work of grace / In full armour / He turns my cheek / In full armour / Contrite and meek / In full armour...” His voice rises, over the din of musical battle to call unto the heavens from out the darkness encroaching upon his soul. The warning is clear: no one will be spared this final judgment; we arm ourselves against the foul spirits, or we are overtaken. Here are the weapons, this song says, it is your choice to take up arms against evil principalities.
Although it is not told in the Bible, there is a theological saying from the counter-reformer, St. Teresa of Ávila, which tells of how “Christ has no body now but yours / No hands, no feet on earth but yours / Yours are the eyes through which He looks / compassion on this world / Christ has no body now on earth but yours.” David, playing his harp in the court of Saul, would be one of the first to agree. His fingers seemed guided by the breath and spirit of Yahweh to ease the afflicted soul of his earthly king. David Eugene Edwards performing his own brand of hellfire lyrics and brimstone rock is certainly an example of using his hands to forge a holy work of grace. In hearing “Slota Prow–Full Armour” it seems, that like Saul beset by spirits; like David playing to keep the darkness at bay; like Martin Luther concerned with evil’s grip upon this world; Edwards can do no other.
Works Cited
Edwards, David Eugene. “Slota Prow–Full Armour.” Mosaic. Glitterhouse Records, 2006. CD.
———. “Dirty Blue.” Mosaic. Glitterhouse Records, 2006. CD.
The New Jerusalem Bible. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1985. Print.
Riss, Richard M. “Singing in the Spirit in the Holiness, Pentecostal, Latter Rain, and Charismatic Movements.” North American Renewal Service Committee. Orlando. 28 July 1995. Paper presentation.
Saint Teresa of Ávila. The Interior Castle. New York: Image /Doubleday, 2004. Print.
~•~
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