Reading Jason Bivins’s Religion of Fear made me think, not so much of Hell Houses or planes flying aborted fetus pictures over Notre Dame, but of Arcade Fire’s Intervention:
Gonna lift me up and take me out of here
It should be called the Department of Offense, not the Department of Defense, man. Dude,
Don't wanna see what happens next,
Don't wanna live in my father's house no more. . . . .
Don't wanna fight in a holy war,
Don't want the salesmen knocking at my door,
I don't wanna live in America no more.
'Cause the tide is high,
and it's rising still,
And I don't wanna see it at my windowsill.
This is the case with his tracing of the history of evangelical anti-rock/rap/metal tracts: these demons are never fully driven out but, like an endlessly glitched compact disc, return to infinitely reassert their place of prominence in this discourse.” The repressed returns again and again to the same stuck place in the CD, and the audience can’t stop watching/listening, not unlike the one place in the Arcade Fire song quoted above that I just had to keep replaying while driving home from school.
While your life falls apart
Singing hallelujah with the fear in your heart
Every spark of friendship and love
Will die without a home.