ég er john seven

More to the point: “A Youth Musical by David T. Clydesdale” that is “Presented by Life Unlimited II” and “Featuring Patti Loewens.” All songs were co-written with something called “Singspiration,” which sounds painful. Get ready to the whitest gospel disco of 1978.

No, it’s not a gospel tribute to Maryland. I had to check my Bible references with this one - it’s a healing pool in the Gospel of John. My favorite thing about this song is how, half-way through, it starts to sound like St. James Infirmary. 

I can’t find out any information on this album, not even the year it was released - though I’m guessing late ’60s or early ’70s - but this is a fine, fun, cool country gospel number recording in Hampton, VA. The Swordsmen’s phone number, on the back of the album, is 804-723-5231. Wonder if it’s still in service 40 years later … 

That’s right, there’s more to life than enjoying it. For instance, there’s working hard to “firm up weak diaphrams,” as it says on the back cover. I think they mean “diaphragm,” but who needs proper spelling when you have a global mission from God? This album is from 1967, but these clean-living world travelers spreading the word of God are still around, apparently, having moved 65,000 groovy Christian young people through their ranks.

On the back cover: “The Cameron Brothers have a flourishing church of their own in Peterhead, Scotland, and have two great International Holy Spirit Conventions in September and at the New Year. Why not join them and see how God is moving world-wide, bringing a wonderful love among God’s people - of every denomination!! (Special plane rates for attendance to conventions. Send for particulars.)”

If you look on the record label, you see the year 1967, but I’m unclear whether the Holy Spirit Convention is for September of that year, or of 1968. Also, plane rates - I assume this means airlines tickets? Man, religion is so complicated.

A jaunty number sung by children reminding you of all the sorts of people in all the sorts of situations that require Jesus to get by. 

From the look of it, Doug Oldham has more to be excited about than merely Jesus - a head full of hair, a belly full of dinner, and some very fancy duds, not to mention a full orchestra backing him up. Oh, sure, and Jesus. 1972 was a very good year for him. The liner notes on the back talk about a trip to England with his wife, Laura. They were enthralled by all the castles and palaces, but also reminded of the one, true king and how fleeting all these sights were in comparison. So, essentially, Jesus ruined their vacation. Thanks, Jesus.

I don’t believe the nun on the cover of this 1974 album from Peter Pan (trying its hardest to look most un-Peter Pan-like) is the actual singer on the album - the liner notes explain that the band’s interpretation of The Lord’s Prayer is a faithful cover of the rock version by nun Sister Janet Mead, and the rest of the songs on the album follow through with that aesthetic. They’re so much to love on this, but I am particularly fond of this track, which sounds like Mrs. Miller fronting the Monkees.

Back in the day - 1967, by this record’s date - Reverend Ian Mitchell was probably one of those “cool” ministers that the young people could “relate to” while they “rapped” about God and stuff. I don’t know if that kind of minister still exists because I’m unsure that they are necessary - it seems that the Reverend Mitchells of the world pretty much won. It’s not hard to get young people all Christianed up anymore. Back in 1967, it apparently took folk music singalongs to keep them interested. That’s the Reverend Mrs. singing along - if you scour the liner notes enough, you will eventually discern her name is Caroline. Don’t want to overshadow her husband’s gigantic mission and ego by, you know, offering her first name up front anywhere. This is apparently the “Roman Catholic Version.” I have no idea what differentiates it from Reverend Mitchell’s other songs. Mitchell, by the way, is an Anglican priest, for those keeping score, and YES, he did appear in nightclubs.

I’ve own this sealed record for 20 years and just now decided to unwrap it and see what it had to offer. The answer is a pretty good rambling, guitar-driven gospel number. You can check out Smitty’s Facebook page - he was apparently in the Oak Ridge Boys in the 1960s, back when they were an actual gospel band and not a curiosity. This record is 1977, but I don’t know if that’s when the recordings were made.

This song from 1971 is so groovy, it almost converted me to Christianity. Almost. 

This is the purest example of the meaning of the phrase “tour de force.” From his Jim Nabors-style singing performance, Mr. Lecates moves into a sermon where he sounds almost like a very insistent David Lynch. Pure genius.

Considering this chorale group is singing this song in praise of the supreme existence that brings order to the universe, you would think they’d want to reflect a little of that order within their music, or at the very least, synchronize their vocals with the band. Not these Christian sonic anarchists. I’ve presented the music of Vermont’s New Life Ministries before with this rapture lament from the New Life Trio. This album is definitely from the early 1970s.

A little fire and brimstone to bring you through the storm, now. I like it when religious imagery is all railroad oriented. Trains for evil and for mercy, trains owned by God, trains own by the Devil. It makes it all very charming and steampunk, doesn’t it? Here’s one by yet another chick with the nickname “the little girl with the big voice.” How many of those are there? From the liner notes that say Lois will graduate in 1969, I guess this must be from about 1967. She seems to have become an evangelist since the days long ago when she was a groovy Christian girl in a yellow polka dot dress taking on the Devil all by herself.

Direct from 1977, these are the sorts of people who directly lead me to atheism.