The Lord, Daniel Amos and lots of rock 'n' roll

The Grand Rapids Press - Grand Rapids Michigan, October 4, 1978

by Jim McFarlin


"The Lord God is able to speak through many things ... even rock and roll."

The speaker is Terry Taylor, a short, long-haired man of 27 who looks 21 and speaks with a non-threatening assurance. He's the rhythm guitarist and spokesman for Daniel Amos, a six-piece California rock band with an unusual aim. As was demonstrated to a small but attentive crowd of 460 in the spacious Godwin High School Auditorium Tuesday, if unique is what you seek, the Bible and Daniel Amos are excellent places to begin.

The band overcame some irritating negatives which occurred even before the first notes were sounded and succeeded in making the evening enjoyable and penetratingly personal. The most vexing situation was that the scheduled 7:30 p.m. performance didn't get under way until just about 8, because the band arrived late. The wait was just long enough to totally destroy any anticipatory excitement one might have been storing for the show. The mood of the audience wasn't brightened when a questionnaire asking for reactions to the concert was passed out by members of The Barn, a youth outreach ministry based in Rockford, minutes before the curtains parted. Everyone was asked to fill out the printed list, but no writing instruments were made available. It all would seem to make for a potentially tough house, but not for this group named after two Old Testament prophets, which must have relied on some divine assistance to win over the masses so quickly.

Dressed more casually than many of those who paid to see them and working, before a backdrop of a metropolitan skyline at dusk, the sextet burst onto the stage already absorbed in pounding out a rhythm. Within 30 seconds it had the crowd clapping along in time. Daniel Amos is a Christian rock band without question or apology. The rock it plays is the good, pithy variety, as fundamental as their beliefs, and filled with contemplative, subtle lyrics not given to double meanings. If you didn't know of their orientation and could listen only to their words and music without introduction, there still could be no mistaking Daniel Amos' intentions. The band's spoken message is much more direct. Taylor does most of the singing and all of the talking. His to the listeners was not understated.

"Some people feel that God is out to get you," he said. "He is out to get you, with His love. That's why He brought you here tonight. The Hound of Heaven, He's tracking you down, He's on your trail. I think it's time you gave in to Him." Daniel Amos seems to take its direction and total sound from the bits and pieces of a cross section of secular groups. At times the vocal harmony created by Taylor, lead guitarist Jerry Chamberlain and keyboard man Mark Cook brought to mind classic Crosby, Stills and Nash. Some of their songs, particularly one entitled "Lady of the Sky," call forth the better chordal constructions of the Eagles. When they switch to country rock, visions of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band spring forth; their ballads break with Bread.

Yet these gentlemen could not truthfully be called copycats. While their music is reminiscent, it has a presence and sturdiness of composition which is redeeming in itself, plus Taylor's unerring voice to support it. Unlike a number of "Jesus rock" groups, Daniel Amos is not afraid to break away completely from the vestiges of the late 1960s and early 1970s and experiment with music that could hold up favorably against any Top 40 opposition.

My only criticism of Daniel Amos is that it sometimes relies too heavily on thick overlays of instrumentation, almost as if they want to see how many instruments they can squeeze into a single chord. The overcomplication of sound was exemplified by the band's percussionist who ran at breakneck speed between a drum set, congas, kettle drums, tambourines, even a hubcap, like a man trying to hold down the Friday assembly line single-handedly.

Although an informal show of hands asked for by Taylor indicated that more than half of those present detested country music, it was with the country-rock form that the band scored its biggest success. Included was "Happily Married Man," a tune Taylor called "a rebuttal to country music." "Country music usually is all about relationships in some state of decay," he said. "A guy's cheating on his wife, she's cheating on him, they sing it as a duet and it's a big hit. That's not always the way it is." The group also went briefly to the California surf era by tossing in a faultless version of "Wipeout" to introduce "Tidal Wave," a song with a strangely British tinge, about a girl whose love of material things leads to her downfall.

The use of visual aids reached its peak in "Preachers from Outer Space," about religious cults. For it, the members disappeared offstage to return in getups that looked like hand-me-downs from the Planet of the Apes. Taylor inserted his enthusiasm for the Christian life between nearly every song. The conclusion of the band's 90 minutes on stage was composed of his personal testimony, a prayer and would be referred to in a revival meeting as "the altar call."

The band milked no applause at the end, nor was there an encore. Taylor and the others were eager to go to the front of the stage and talk to those few who had expressed a desire to know more about their faith. In most secular concerts, lighted matches or flicked cigarette lighters would be held aloft in the darkness to indicate audience appreciation for work well done. Tuesday, open palms simply were raised heavenward as heads were bowed, the flames plainly burning within.