Kris Swales: God Isn't A DJ

Peace. Love. Unity. Respect. Dance music's four-pronged holy trinity – the four elements from which the rave scene initially drew its power and slowly but surely infiltrated the stadiums of the world.

On the surface, they're also some of the cornerstones of organised religion (unless you introduce oil, land ownership, or vulnerable young children into the equation, but I digress…), so it's surprising there's been little crossover between the two movements over the years. After all, who amongst the clubbing fraternity hasn't found themselves speaking in tongues midway through a long weekend on the chomp of appreciating the music they love?

Back in the mid-'00s, a pair of crafty Brisbane producers known as Statler & Waldorf filled me in on their cunning plan for world domination – hosting Christian raves.

From memory (they may have been speaking in tongues at the time, or perhaps I was hearing in them), the plan involved driving the tour bus across whatever wide brown land would have them; setting up a circus tent, a la Steve Martin in Leap Of Faith or other travelling evangelist, in city centres of note; performing a set of entirely instrumental progressive house and the like; projecting religious iconography and slogans on the big screen above them; Profit.

It sounded like quiet genius at the time, and they were clearly onto some visionary shit, because the American EDM scourge that is threatening to suck the heart and soul out of a movement that has survived perfectly well without its support for many years thank you very much boom has recently given life to some born agains of its own.

In her Finding God On The Dancefloor article for Chicago's 5 Magazine, Czarina Mirani sits on the listening side of the confessional booth with Nate Carlisle, DJ and head of the God's DJs crew – who, for reasons best known to someone, hosted an official pre-party for Detroit's Movement Festival in May that had such respected DJs as Terrence Parker delivering from the pulpit.

I'd like to think that the party looked a little bit like this…

But, apparently, at the event known as Reformation (presumably Thank God It's Friday wasn't day-appropriate), the promoter's wife is on hand to dish out t-shirts in case any scantily-clad young temptresses strut into the party looking like Eve in fluffy boots. Meanwhile, back at the mount, the sermonising is handled by MCs and/or vocalists, who wax theological over the top of whatever the DJs happen to be dishing up when they're not striking Jesus Christ poses.

FACT: all but the most skilled drum'n'bass MCs only detract from the music they're spitting hype and/or rhymes over. So exactly how the epic majesty of a classic instrumental bomb – for argument's sake, let's say Pryda's Genesis, which you'd definitely need a good rest after listening to for six days straight – can be improved by inspirational words being channeled from above is beyond me.

And what happens when the night's over?

Does everyone head to a kick-on and lie around on couches, giving each other head massages while watching Benny Hinn?

Have in-depth chinstroker discussions about whether a band called Faithless writing a track called God Is A DJ is ironic, subversive, or just plain sacrilegious?

Listen to the latest Damian Lazarus podcast and reminisce about how Lazpod #24 was such a great comeback (chortle) from him?

Plot an entirely electronic dance music based revival of Jesus Christ Superstar? (Oh wait, that was me.)

Share the dark secrets of what DJ Father Figure did to them at the illegal under-18s warehouse rave series Original Sin?

Try to kick-on through the whole weekend so they can roll into legendary recovery club Resurrection of a Monday morning and freshen up on their way to work?

Like much of what the church gets up to, shrouded in secrecy this is.

But I do know this. I'm sure the heart of Nate and his Christian rave peers is in the right place, and from reading Nate's interview he seems to have paid his dues, but a piece of instrumental dance music is NOT another medium for you to (mis)appropriate to spread the good Lord's word over. That piece of music has been crafted by producer(s) who send it out into the universal consciousness for ear drums to interpret in whatever way they please, whether that be as a trigger for euphoria, tapping into their own feelings of isolation, exploring spirituality in all of its forms, or just to get their arse shaking on the dancefloor.

Still, if it's all about the music in the end, then we should let the music do the talking, right? Right.

“May electronic music be claimed for God's glory!” exclaims Matthew Parker, a producer from Jackson, Michigan, USA.

Here he is with Fire Burning In My Heart, and some of the story behind it.

“Jesus is the Fire burning in my heart,” Matthew explains. “I've been listening to a lot of electronic music recently, and finally ended up making a song in the style of Progressive House.”

No, Matthew. You most certainly did not.