The Religions of Bob Dylan: From Delivering Evangelical Sermons to Singing Hava Nagila With Harry Dean Stanton

My first reac­tion upon learn­ing about Bob Dylan’s brief con­ver­sion to Evan­gel­i­cal Chris­tian­i­ty may have been some­thing like “What in the hell?” It wasn’t a reli­gious Dylan that sur­prised me; it was Dylan embrac­ing a faith that can often seem dogged­ly lit­er­al and, well, just a lit­tle inflex­i­ble. What with his love of ambi­gu­i­ty, of occult sym­bol­ism and sym­bol­ist poet­ry, and his res­olute con­tempt for con­ven­tion, Dylan has always struck me as more of an ancient Gnos­tic than a mod­ern Bible thumper. While Dylan’s immer­sion in the Chris­t­ian world may have been brief, it was deep, and it was confusing—enough so that Andy Greene in Rolling Stone com­ments that his pros­e­ly­tiz­ing from the stage “took audi­ence provo­ca­tion to the next lev­el.”

In his gospel shows of 1979/80, Dylan pre­sent­ed “a night of music devot­ed exclu­sive­ly to selec­tions from his new gospel records, often paus­ing for long, ram­bling ser­mons about Christ’s immi­nent return and the wicked­ness of man.” Hear one of those ser­mons at the top, a sev­en-minute the­o­log­i­cal dis­qui­si­tion, before Dylan and band launch into a pow­er­ful per­for­mance of “Sol­id Rock.” Just above, in anoth­er ser­mon from 1979, Dylan holds forth on the “spir­it of the Antichrist” before an unsym­pa­thet­ic crowd in Tempe, Ari­zona. That same year, he gave an inter­view to Bruce Heiman of KMGX Radio in Tuc­son on the sub­ject of his con­ver­sion (below).

In a cer­tain way, a Dylan obsessed with divine judg­ment and the book of Rev­e­la­tion jibes with his pur­suit of the arcane and the mys­ti­cal, with his con­sis­tent­ly apoc­a­lyp­tic vision, prophet­ic mum­blings, and ten­den­cy to mor­al­ize. But the preach­ing is just…. well, kin­da weird. I mean, not even Dylan’s friend, the deeply devout John­ny Cash, used his musi­cal plat­form to harangue audi­ences about the Bible. Was it a stunt or a gen­uine, if per­haps overzeal­ous, expres­sion of deeply held beliefs? That ques­tion could be asked of almost every move Dylan has ever made. This brief peri­od of very pub­lic reli­gios­i­ty may seem anom­alous, but Dylan’s inter­est in reli­gion is not. Google his name and any faith term, and you’ll see sug­ges­tions for “Dylan and Islam,” “Dylan and Bud­dhism,” “Dylan and Catholi­cism,” and, of course, “Dylan and Judaism,” the reli­gion of his birth. Some con­tend that Dylan still keeps faith with Jesus, and that it doesn’t mutu­al­ly exclude his Jew­ish­ness.


And yet, how Dylan’s Chris­t­ian preach­ing could line up with his lat­er com­mit­ment to Chabad—an Ortho­dox Hasidic move­ment that isn’t exact­ly warm to the idea of the Chris­t­ian mes­si­ah, to put it mildly—is beyond my ken. But log­i­cal con­sis­ten­cy does not rank high­ly on any list of virtues I’m famil­iar with. Dylan seemed to be recon­nect­ing with Judaism when he explic­it­ly expressed sol­i­dar­i­ty with Israel in 1983 in his Zion­ist anthem “Neigh­bor­hood Bul­ly” from Infi­dels, in oth­er respects, a whol­ly sec­u­lar record.

Three years lat­er, Dylan appeared on the Chabad telethon (above), accom­pa­ny­ing his son-in-law Peter Him­mel­man on har­mon­i­ca in a ren­di­tion of “Hava Nag­i­la,” along with, of all peo­ple, Har­ry Dean Stan­ton (whose chill­ing turn as polyg­a­mous Mor­mon sect leader in HBO’s Big Love you may well recall). By this time, at least accord­ing to Jew­ish Jour­nal, “Chabad rab­bis had helped Dylan return to Judaism after the musi­cian embraced Chris­tian­i­ty for a time.” The mid-90s saw Dylan wor­ship­ping with Brook­lyn Lubav­itch­ers, and in 2007, he was sight­ed in Atlanta at Yom Kip­pur ser­vices at the Chabad-Lubav­itch of Geor­gia, say­ing the “bless­ings in Hebrew with­out stum­bling, like a pro.”

So is Bob Dylan a fire­breath­ing Chris­t­ian or an Ortho­dox Jew? Or, some­how… both? Only Dylan knows, and frankly, only Dylan needs to. His beliefs are his busi­ness, but his pub­lic expres­sions of faith have giv­en his fans much to puz­zle over, read­ing the lyri­cal tea leaves for evi­dence of a sol­id rock cen­ter amidst the shift­ing sands of Dylanol­o­gy. Let ‘em sift. Some peo­ple obsess over Dylan’s reli­gious com­mit­ments, oth­ers over his “secret” wife and daugh­ter, his cor­po­rate sell­outs, or his some­times inscrutable per­son­al pol­i­tics. It’s all part of the busi­ness of fame. What I find fas­ci­nat­ing about the many lay­ers of Bob Dylan is not how much they tell me about the man, who has the right to change his mind, or not, as often as he likes, but how much they reveal about his strange lyri­cal themes. After all, Dylan’s seem­ing­ly con­tra­dic­to­ry alle­giances and ambiva­lent iden­ti­ties as an artist may in in fact make him all the more the arche­typ­al Amer­i­can song­writer he’s always said to be.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

An Intro­duc­tion to Dylanol­o­gy, or How to Under­stand Bob Dylan by Dig­ging Through His Garbage

The Times They Are a‑Changin’: 1964 Broad­cast Gives a Rare Glimpse of the Ear­ly Bob Dylan

Ani­mat­ed Video: John­ny Cash Explains Why Music Became a Reli­gious Call­ing

John­ny Cash Reads the Entire New Tes­ta­ment

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Ayn Rand Trashes C.S. Lewis in Her Marginalia: He’s an “Abysmal Bastard”

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Images via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

The polit­i­cal inter­sec­tion of Ayn Ran­di­an lib­er­tar­i­ans and Evan­gel­i­cal con­ser­v­a­tives is a baf­fling phe­nom­e­non for most of us out­side the Amer­i­can right. It’s hard to rec­on­cile the athe­ist arch-cap­i­tal­ist and despis­er of social wel­fare with, for exam­ple, the Ser­mon on the Mount. But hey, mixed mar­riages often work out, right? Well, as for Rand her­self, one would hard­ly find her sym­pa­thet­ic to reli­gion or its expos­i­tors at any point in her career. Take her sound lash­ing of writer, schol­ar, and lay the­olo­gian C.S. Lewis, intel­lec­tu­al hero of Protes­tant Chris­tian­i­ty. (Wheaton Col­lege hous­es his per­son­al library, and there exists not only a C.S. Lewis Insti­tute, but also a C.S. Lewis Foun­da­tion.) Lewis’ The Abo­li­tion of Man (1943), while osten­si­bly a text on edu­ca­tion, also pur­ports, like Aquinas’ Sum­ma The­o­log­i­ca, to expound the prin­ci­ples of nat­ur­al law and objec­tive moral val­ue. Rand would have none of it.

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Reli­gion jour­nal First Things brings us excerpts from the edit­ed col­lec­tion, Ayn Rand’s Mar­gin­a­lia: Her crit­i­cal com­ments on the writ­ings of over 20 authors. In it, Rand gloss­es Lewis’s Abo­li­tion of Man with sav­age feroc­i­ty, call­ing the author an “abysmal bas­tard,” “cheap, dri­v­el­ling non-enti­ty” [sic], and “abysmal scum!” The screen­shot above (Lewis left, Rand’s anno­ta­tions right) from the First Things’ blog post offers a typ­i­cal rep­re­sen­ta­tion of Rand’s tone through­out, and includes some par­tic­u­lar­ly elab­o­rate insults.

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The C.S. Lewis Foun­da­tion com­ments that Lewis “prob­a­bly would not have approved of the lev­el of ven­om, but he prob­a­bly would not have liked Rand’s phi­los­o­phy much either.” Anoth­er Chris­t­ian aca­d­e­m­ic has suc­cess­ful­ly squared an appre­ci­a­tion for both Rand and Lewis, but writes crit­i­cal­ly of Rand, who “seems to have inter­pret­ed Lewis’s book as a Lud­dite screed against sci­ence and tech­nol­o­gy,” part of her “ten­den­cy to car­i­ca­ture her oppo­nents.” Cer­tain­ly no one ever accused her of sub­tle­ty. “It’s pret­ty clear,” our pro­fes­sor con­tin­ues, “that when show­ing stu­dents how to engage in schol­ar­ly dis­course, Ayn Rand should not be the mod­el.” No, indeed, but how she would thrive on the Inter­net.

Read more at First Things, and down­load a PDF of the Rand-anno­tat­ed Lewis excerpts here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free Audio: Down­load the Com­plete Chron­i­cles of Nar­nia by C.S. Lewis

The Only Known Record­ings of C.S. Lewis (1944–1948)

Watch Hand-Drawn Ani­ma­tions of 7 Sto­ries & Essays by C.S. Lewis

Flan­nery O’Connor: Friends Don’t Let Friends Read Ayn Rand (1960)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Johnny Cash Reads the New Testament

The best gospel recordings—by Aretha Franklin, The Sta­ples Singers, The Carter Fam­i­ly, even Elvis—hum with a deep sin­cer­i­ty that can be tru­ly mov­ing, despite the unin­ten­tion­al­ly fun­ny earnest­ness of bal­lads like “He Touched Me” (not to men­tion some of those album cov­ers). You can add to the list of South­ern gospel greats the name of John­ny Cash, who, like Elvis, got his start singing gospel and returned fre­quent­ly to the hymns of his youth. Unlike the King, how­ev­er, Cash also returned to the fold in the 1970s, part­ly influ­enced by his wife June Carter.

Cash would record a total of eight solo gospel albums with Colum­bia Records over his career, and a sort of old-time gospel great­est hits with The Mil­lion Dol­lar Quar­tet (Cash, Elvis, Jer­ry Lee Lewis, and Carl Perkins). He wrote a 1986 nov­el­iza­tion of the life of the Apos­tle Paul called Man in White, and a song of the same name (below), and in 1990, the aging star record­ed the entire New Tes­ta­ment, New King James Ver­sion. Hear the Gospel of Matthew above, and lis­ten to it on Youtube. Run­ning over 19 hours, the record­ing was repack­aged in 2008 as a DVD called Chap­ter and Verse, with a slideshow and a CD of 14 of Cash’s gospel record­ings.

Like his life and career, Cash’s reli­gious jour­ney was tumul­tuous, but once he’d kicked his addic­tion, he became some­thing of a “staunch, con­ser­v­a­tive Bible thumper,” writ­ing in the intro­duc­tion to The Man in White, “Please under­stand that I believe the Bible, the whole Bible, to be the infal­li­ble, indis­putable Word of God.” His the­o­log­i­cal views may have tem­pered over the years, but they remained staunch­ly Evan­gel­i­cal to the end of his life. That said, Cash “was a pri­vate man and pre­ferred to keep his faith to him­self,” once declar­ing, “If I’m with some­one who doesn’t want to talk about it, I don’t talk about it. I don’t impose myself on any­body in any way, includ­ing reli­gion.”

As in every­thing else Cash record­ed, his con­vic­tion comes through in his read­ing above. While he didn’t preach, he did prac­tice what he under­stood to be the val­ues of his faith, stand­ing up for the poor, impris­oned, and oppressed and against the pow­er struc­tures that con­stant­ly beat them down. Cash’s humil­i­ty and com­mit­ment to prin­ci­ple have inspired mil­lions of peo­ple who share his beliefs and mil­lions who don’t. To learn more about this lit­tle-dis­cussed side of the Man in Black, lis­ten to the one-hour radio doc­u­men­tary below from Pub­lic Radio Exchange.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ani­mat­ed Video: John­ny Cash Explains Why Music Became a Reli­gious Call­ing

Two Prison Con­certs That Defined an Out­law Singer: John­ny Cash at San Quentin and Fol­som (1968–69)

The First Episode of The John­ny Cash Show, Fea­tur­ing Bob Dylan & Joni Mitchell (1969)

Har­vard Presents Two Free Online Cours­es on the Old Tes­ta­ment

Free Online Reli­gion Cours­es

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Sonny Rollins Describes How 50 Years of Practicing Yoga Made Him a Better Musician

Indi­an mys­tic and philoso­pher Patan­jali sup­pos­ed­ly cre­at­ed mod­ern yoga by trans­mit­ting his doc­trine and dis­ci­plines to sev­en sages. In the mid-1950s, those teach­ings came down through the cen­turies to anoth­er sage, Son­ny Rollins, who, like his good friend John Coltrane, incor­po­rat­ed his exper­i­ments with East­ern spir­i­tu­al­i­ty into his jazz impro­vi­sa­tions. In Rollins’ case, yoga has giv­en him, as he recounts in the short video above, “spir­i­tu­al under­stand­ing” and “direc­tion.” Set­ting out for India in 1967 to find “uplift­ment,” Rollins checked him­self into an Ashram, with noth­ing but a bag and his horn, “and it worked out well,” he says. Rollins and his jazz “com­pa­tri­ots” like Coltrane “were try­ing to find a way to express life through our impro­vi­sa­tions,” he tells NPR. “The music has got to mean some­thing,” he says, “Jazz impro­vi­sa­tion is sup­posed to be the high­est form of com­mu­ni­ca­tion, and get­ting that to the peo­ple is our job as musi­cians.”

In his new set of live record­ings, Road Shows, Vol. 3, Rollins plays a “mantra-like” song called “Patan­jali,” a trib­ute to the dis­ci­pline that keeps him phys­i­cal­ly and musi­cal­ly vital. In his “Morn­ing Edi­tion” inter­view above, Rollins describes his yoga prac­tice as help­ing his “con­cen­tra­tion lev­el.” “The thing is this,” he says, “When I play, what I try to do is to reach my sub­con­scious lev­el. I don’t want to overt­ly think about any­thing, because you can’t think and play at the same time—believe me, I’ve tried.” At age 83, and still sound­ing as fresh as he does, one imag­ines he’s tried it all and learned some valu­able lessons. In 1963, Rollins met the Oki Yoga group in Japan, who com­bine yoga, Zen, and mar­tial arts prin­ci­ples, and he’s also stud­ied Rosi­cru­cian­ism, Bud­dhism, and “Kab­bal­ah, even—I was real­ly into those philoso­phies of life.”

As for whether Son­ny Rollins con­sid­ers him­self a mem­ber of any par­tic­u­lar sect, hear his thoughts on orga­nized reli­gion in answer to a recent Google Hang­out ques­tion (above). While he may not sub­scribe to a spe­cif­ic belief sys­tem, he’s cer­tain­ly found spir­i­tu­al tech­niques that give him—as he puts it in an inter­view with Yoga Jour­nal—“a cen­ter.” Rollins “still prac­tices asana [pos­es] every day, includ­ing Halasana (Plow Pose) and Urd­h­va Dha­nurasana (Upward Bow Pose).” Want to learn more about yoga? You could always read Patanjali’s famous sutras. For more prac­ti­cal instruc­tion in this peace­ful phys­i­cal dis­ci­pline, per­haps take a look at the rather iron­i­cal­ly named Les­ley Fightmaster’s Youtube chan­nel, with free lessons for vir­tu­al­ly every­one.

Of course, no one teacher should be con­sid­ered the author­i­ty on yoga. Like every spir­i­tu­al prac­tice, yoga has its many schisms and divi­sions, even so-called “Yoga Wars”: among Hin­dus and Chris­tians, between cor­po­rate giants like Lul­ule­mon (and West­ern teach­ers like Fight­mas­ter) and tra­di­tion­al Indi­an prac­ti­tion­ers, between “Hot Yoga” (and its con­tro­ver­sial founder) and every­one else…. I doubt Son­ny Rollins has time to get enmeshed in these squab­bles, and maybe nei­ther do you. For a much less uptight fusion of East­ern prac­tice and West­ern spir­it, per­haps try some Star Wars Yoga. In this video, instruc­tor Eri­ca Vetra offers a free beginner’s class for those who “A. love Star Wars, B. have nev­er seen Star Wars, C. love yoga, or D. have nev­er done yoga.” The ecu­meni­cal Son­ny Rollins might approve, though the ven­er­a­ble Patan­jali, indif­fer­ent to “fan­cy” and “illu­sion,” may not have been amused.

via A Piece of Mono­logue

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Son­ny Rollins’ New York City Bridge Sab­bat­i­cal Recre­at­ed in 1977 Pio­neer Elec­tron­ics Ad

Free Guid­ed Med­i­ta­tions From UCLA: Boost Your Aware­ness & Ease Your Stress

David Lynch Talks Med­i­ta­tion with Paul McCart­ney

Alan Watts Intro­duces Amer­i­ca to Med­i­ta­tion & East­ern Phi­los­o­phy (1960)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

The Only Known Recordings of C.S. Lewis (1944–1948)

When we come to know the work of nov­el­ist and schol­ar C.S. Lewis, we usu­al­ly do it through a tex­tu­al medi­um — specif­i­cal­ly in child­hood, through that thrilling writ­ten arti­fact known as The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Often this leads us into the rest of his sev­en-vol­ume Chron­i­cles of Nar­nia series (find a free audio ver­sion here), and those most deeply intrigued by the world­view that shaped that high-fan­ta­sy world may find them­selves even­tu­al­ly read­ing even Lewis’ Chris­t­ian apolo­get­ics, of which 1952’s well-known Mere Chris­tian­i­ty came as only the first. That book drew its con­tent from a series of the­o­log­i­cal lec­tures Lewis gave on BBC radio between 1942 and 1944, dur­ing the Sec­ond World War. Lit­tle mate­r­i­al from these talks sur­vives — in fact, we have pre­cious few min­utes of his voice on tape in any con­text, and noth­ings at all of him on film — but you can hear about fif­teen min­utes of it in the clips above and below.

These excerpts come from “The New Men”, the last episode of Lewis’series Beyond Per­son­al­i­ty orig­i­nal­ly broad­cast on March 21, 1944, and an intro­duc­tion to The Great Divorce, his the­o­log­i­cal nov­el writ­ten in response to William Blake’s The Mar­riage of Heav­en and Hell. “If I’ve writ­ten of their divorce,” Lewis says, “this is not because I think myself a fit antag­o­nist for so great a genius, nor even because I feel at all sure that I knew what he meant.” The state­ment exem­pli­fies the clar­i­ty and humil­i­ty with which he always wrote, even when essen­tial­ly trum­pet­ing the ben­e­fits of his own faith. Giv­en the off-putting­ly com­bat­ive tenor of most high-pro­file reli­gious argu­ments made today, both for and against, the remains of Lewis’ broad­casts remind us how much we could use more thinkers like him today — in any form of media.

Relat­ed con­tent:

C.S. Lewis’ Pre­scient 1937 Review of The Hob­bit by J.R.R. Tolkien: It “May Well Prove a Clas­sic”

Watch Hand-Drawn Ani­ma­tions of 7 Sto­ries & Essays by C.S. Lewis

Free Audio: Down­load the Com­plete Chron­i­cles of Nar­nia by C.S. Lewis

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Philip K. Dick Takes You Inside His Life-Changing Mystical Experience

Image by Pete Welsch, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Philip K. Dick’s mind was invad­ed in 1974.

It hap­pened fol­low­ing surgery for an impact­ed wis­dom tooth. While recov­er­ing, the author of Ubik and The Man in the High Cas­tle, received a deliv­ery of pain med­ica­tion. The deliv­ery girl wore a Jesus fish around her neck, which in Dick’s per­cep­tion was emit­ting a pink beam. Soon after, Dick­’s brain was invad­ed by… some­thing. Dick nev­er quite fig­ured out what.

He lat­er described the expe­ri­ence to inter­view­er Charles Platt as “an inva­sion of my mind by a tran­scen­den­tal­ly ratio­nal mind. It was almost as if I had been insane all of my life and sud­den­ly I had become sane.”

The expe­ri­ence pro­found­ly affect­ed him and it made up the core of his book VALIS. The title is an acronym for Vast Active Liv­ing Intel­li­gence Sys­tem, which pret­ty much describes how Dick thought of this mind.

In 1979, Platt inter­viewed Dick in depth for his book Dream Mak­ers. You can lis­ten to an extend­ed clip of Dick recount­ing his tran­scen­den­tal expe­ri­ence below:

“On Thurs­days and Sat­ur­days I’d think it was God,” he told Platt. “On Tues­days and Wednes­days, I’d think it was extrater­res­tri­als. Some times I’d think it was the Sovi­et Union Acad­e­my of Sci­ences try­ing out their psy­chotron­ic microwave tele­path­ic trans­mis­sions.”

What­ev­er it was, this mind took con­trol of Dick when he was at a low ebb and, like a lov­ing par­ent or an excep­tion­al­ly tal­ent­ed per­son­al assis­tant, cleaned up his life. “I was a spec­ta­tor,” said Dick. This mind, which Dick char­ac­ter­ized as female, fired his agent, tracked down edi­tors who were late send­ing checks and mod­i­fied his diet.

She also revealed that his young son had an undi­ag­nosed birth defect that was poten­tial­ly fatal. And the rev­e­la­tion proved to be true. The child’s life was saved.

That said, he did have a cou­ple minor com­plaints about the enti­ty: she kept call­ing his baf­fled wife “Ma’am” and she had a ten­den­cy to lapse into Koine Greek. Nobody, even a God-like vision, is per­fect. Above, we have a draw­ing by R. Crumb.

You can lis­ten to Platt’s full inter­view with Dick below:

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Robert Crumb Illus­trates Philip K. Dick’s Infa­mous, Hal­lu­ci­na­to­ry Meet­ing with God (1974)

Down­load 14 Great Sci-Fi Sto­ries by Philip K. Dick as Free Audio Books and Free eBooks

Philip K. Dick Pre­views Blade Run­ner: “The Impact of the Film is Going to be Over­whelm­ing” (1981)

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow.

Space Jazz, a Sonic Sci-Fi Opera by L. Ron Hubbard, Featuring Chick Corea (1983)

The Church of Sci­en­tol­ogy has a num­ber of fas­ci­nat­ing­ly dis­tinc­tive char­ac­ter­is­tics, includ­ing but not lim­it­ed to its foun­da­tion by a sci­ence-fic­tion nov­el­ist. That nov­el­ist, a cer­tain L. Ron Hub­bard, launched his reli­gion in the Amer­i­ca of the 1950s, a pros­per­ous place in a Space Age decade when all things sci­ence-fic­tion­al enjoyed a per­haps unprece­dent­ed pop­u­lar­i­ty. Anoth­er big main­stream sci-fi wave would wash over the coun­try in the late 1970s and ear­ly 80s, when, as Nathan Rabin puts it at Slate, “than­ks to the pop­u­lar­i­ty of E.T., Close Encoun­ters of the Third Kind, and the Star Wars and Star Trek fran­chis­es, space was the place and sci­ence fic­tion was the hottest genre around. Sci­en­tol­ogy want­ed in, so an ambi­tious plan was hatched: Hubbard’s epic 1982 Bat­tle­field Earth nov­el, to be fol­lowed by Space Jazz,” an album con­tain­ing a “son­ic space opera” based on the nov­el. At the top of post, you can hear the track “Earth, My Beau­ti­ful Home,” one of the pro­jec­t’s few un-bom­bas­tic num­bers, and one per­formed by a gen­uine­ly more-than-cred­i­ble jazz pianist, Chick Corea

The Church of Sci­en­tol­ogy counts Corea as a mem­ber, as it then did anoth­er of Space Jazz’s guest play­ers, bassist (and Core­a’s Return to For­ev­er band­mate) Stan­ley Clarke. This puts the album into the unusu­al class of works both writ­ten and per­formed by Sci­en­tol­o­gists, a group which also includes Bat­tle­field Earth’s much lat­er, John Tra­vol­ta-star­ring cin­e­mat­ic adap­ta­tion, now known as one of the most notable flops in film his­to­ry. Rabin, in his arti­cle, also cov­ers sev­er­al oth­er albums cred­it­ed to Hub­bard, includ­ing 1986’s posthu­mous Mis­sion Earth, record­ed by mul­ti-instru­men­tal­ist/­Scien­tol­o­gist Edgar Win­ter, which he calls the only one “that could con­ceiv­ably be played on the radio with­out prompt­ing con­fused cries of, ‘Why?’ and ‘What?’ and ‘Is this even music?’ ” Some say sci­ence fic­tion has under­gone anoth­er boom in recent years, but alas, we still await the great Sci­en­to­log­i­cal con­cept album of the 21st cen­tu­ry.

via Slate

Relat­ed Con­tent:

When William S. Bur­roughs Joined Sci­en­tol­ogy (and His 1971 Book Denounc­ing It)

Isaac Asi­mov Recalls the Gold­en Age of Sci­ence Fic­tion (1937–1950)

Stan­ley Kubrick’s Daugh­ter Shares Pho­tos of Her­self Grow­ing Up on Her Father’s Film Sets

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Hear the Voice of Arthur Conan Doyle After His Death

ConanDoyleSpiritVoice

We’ve pre­vi­ous­ly doc­u­ment­ed the strange case of Arthur Conan Doyle’s fer­vent Spir­i­tu­al­ism, which Mark Strauss of io9 apt­ly describes as “hard to rec­on­cile [with] the man who cre­at­ed the lit­er­ary embod­i­ment of empir­i­cal think­ing,” Sher­lock Holmes. Conan Doyle was so eager to believe in the exis­tence of fairies and what he called “psy­chic mat­ters” that he was fre­quent­ly tak­en in by hoax­es. But the physi­cian and novelist’s seem­ing­ly odd views obtained wide­ly among his con­tem­po­raries who sought con­fir­ma­tion of the after­life and com­mu­nion with their dead rel­a­tives, mil­lions of whom were lost in the Civ­il War, then World War I.

Spir­i­tu­al­ism pro­vid­ed a com­fort to the bereaved, as well as ample oppor­tu­ni­ty for grifters and char­la­tans. And yet, Strauss points out, the rise of Spir­i­tu­al­ism in the 19th cen­tu­ry may also have been due to the ris­ing influ­ence of sci­ence in pop­u­lar cul­ture, as more and more peo­ple sought exper­i­men­tal evi­dence for their super­nat­ur­al beliefs. Conan Doyle wrote twen­ty books on the sub­ject, includ­ing the two-vol­ume 1924 His­to­ry of Spir­i­tu­al­ism. In a speech he gave in May of 1930, just before his death, he explained the appeal. Hear the audio above and read a tran­scrip­tion below:

Peo­ple ask, what do you get from spir­i­tu­al­ism? The first thing you get is that it absolute­ly removes all fear of death. Sec­ond­ly, it bridges death for those dear ones whom we may lose. We need have no fear that we are call­ing them back, for all that we do is to make such con­di­tions as expe­ri­ence has taught us, will enable them to come if they wish. And the ini­tia­tive lies always with them.

Two months lat­er at a séance attend­ed by thou­sands at the Roy­al Albert Hall, a medi­um claimed to have com­mu­ni­cat­ed with the Sher­lock Holmes author. And four years after that, anoth­er medi­um, Noah Zerdin, held a séance attend­ed by hun­dreds, and Conan Doyle is said to have been one of 44 who spoke from the beyond. This time, the event was record­ed, on 26 acetate disks, which were only dis­cov­ered 67 years lat­er in 2001 by Zerdin’s son, who donat­ed them to the British Library. The 1934 record­ings fea­tured in a 2002 BBC radio doc­u­men­tary called What Grandad Did in the Dark.

Just above, you can hear the sup­posed voice of Arthur Conan Doyle speak­ing from the spir­it world. The audio is seri­ous­ly spooky, but I’m not inclined to believe that it’s any­thing more than a hoax, although the tech­nol­o­gy of the time would make manip­u­la­tion of the direct record­ings dif­fi­cult. So-called “spir­it voic­es” in record­ings such as this are known as EVP (“elec­tron­ic voice phe­nom­e­non”), and there are many such exam­ples of the genre at the British Library, includ­ing a batch of 60 tapes made by a Dr. Kon­stan­tin Rau­dive, “who believed that the dead could com­mu­ni­cate with the liv­ing through the medi­um of radio waves.”

A post on the British Library site com­ments that “the record­ed evi­dence is not espe­cial­ly con­vinc­ing, being short com­ments or frag­ments that with­out the accom­pa­ny­ing spo­ken ‘trans­la­tion’ would prob­a­bly not strike the lis­ten­er as hav­ing any mean­ing­ful con­tent.” The Conan Doyle audio seems a lit­tle more coher­ent, though it’s dif­fi­cult to make out exact­ly what the voice says. Com­pare the two sam­ples and draw your own con­clu­sions. Or bet­ter yet, con­sid­er what Sher­lock Holmes would make of this alleged “evi­dence.”

You can find Sher­lock Holmes texts in our col­lec­tions: 600 Free eBooks for iPad, Kin­dle & Oth­er Devices and 550 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free.

via io9

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Arthur Conan Doyle & The Cot­tin­g­ley Fairies: How Two Young Girls Fooled Sher­lock Holmes’ Cre­ator

Arthur Conan Doyle Dis­cuss­es Sher­lock Holmes and Psy­chics in a Rare Filmed Inter­view (1927)

Arthur Conan Doyle Fills Out the Ques­tion­naire Made Famous By Mar­cel Proust (1899)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness.

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