The Father of Contemporary Gospel

A Certain Man of Zorah

This essay was posted for mostly selfish reasons. I doubt anyone in the Black Church will know or care who Larry Norman was. But, for anyone making even a reasonable attempt to understand who I am (or was), this is as good a place to start as any. There were few influences on my life as lasting and profound as Larry Norman, a man I’ve met only once, but whose art, intellectualism and odd-man-out view of Christianity—for better and perhaps worse—shaped my ministry and my life. There might be a precious few of you who have heard Larry’s most famous song, “I Wish We’d All Been Ready,” which has been co-opted by the religious right to scare you about the apocalypse. But it was likely Larry’s most infamous song, “Why Don’t You Look Into Jesus,” with its condemnation of promiscuity (Gonorrhea on Valentine’s Day, and you’re still looking for the perfect lay…) that got him bounced out of the Christian mainstream. Possibly the most brilliant songwriter and producer of his generation (which is saying something with guys like Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen wandering around), Larry Norman’s Christian rock transcended both Christianity and rock & roll, becoming what few Christian artists ever achieve: art. His albums were far too secular for Christian bookstores who, to this day, so sanitize their product as to keep us in this ridiculous bubble of see-no-evil-hear-no-evil (a recent example: many chains refusing to carry Tonéx’s brilliant Oak Park 92105 until he re-edited it and removed the parental warning sticker with Oak Park 92106).

Norman’s straightforwardness about his faith tended to irritate Capitol and later MGM, his record labels, while his aggressive prosecution of the issues of the day (“I Am The Six O’clock News”) and unconventional, un-churchy, un-religious demeanor (com­par­ing God to a UFO) and lyrical content tended to turn off the Jerry Falwell crowd. He was relatively unwelcome in mainstream conservative Christian circles, his records unwelcome in Christian bookstores while frequently being racked with Christian music in commercial record chains where nobody knew who he was and the records wouldn’t sell. He’s never had a number one hit. In fact, I’m not sure he’s ever charted. Norman spent forty-three or so years as a major recording artist without ever having a hit records, or measurable record sales at all. He was an odd hippie character with quixotic business practices that alienated top-charting bands from his record label (I’d list them but you’ve never heard of them, which is a shame considering Daniel Amos’ Horrendous Disc is one of the best CCM albums of all time—and Larry shelved it for more than a year and drove the band nuts).

Norman was prone to long, rambling, introspective writing, much like myself, which he published often in linear notes for his releases. He had a falling out with his long-time partner and best friend Randy Stonehill, and subsequently married Stonehill’s ex-wife—Norman’s second marriage—which didn’t last. He ran his record company out of his basement, selling meager numbers of records via mail order and eventually the web. While respected and admired by, well, everybody in CCM, Larry remained largely unknown in black Christian circles. And, while he could have certainly moved toward superstardom in the genre he originated, Larry’s unpredictable and often unfathomable business sense had him dodging success every time it came near, alienating friends and ultimately, dying broke.

Anointed And/Or Crazy: Norman at Stonehenge.

In Another Land

Norman attributed much of his odd behavior to a head injury suffered in an airplane accident in 1978 and a later diagnosis of bipolar disease. Truth be told, Norman’s most prolific work—an exquisite trilogy of albums called “The Trilogy,” was completed before his accident. His last A-List album, Something New Under The Son, was completed shortly before the accident. Since that time, Norman has recorded copiously, but it’s all been hit-or-miss and, like Prince, odd and often unfathomable. His seminal work was an album called Only Visiting This Planet, which is sampled here. A fascinating mix of rock and blues styles pristinely recorded at George Martin’s studio (the producer of the Beatles), Planet is, likely, the best CCM album ever recorded. In fact, labeling it a CCM album actually limits it: this is a profound and transcendent work, as fine a rock album as ever recorded, with riveting lyrical content, fun hooks and harmonies, and songs that add up to a whole, like chapters in a book, they tell a story. The record is simply hypnotic, you just put it on and let it flow, no skipping around necessary.

For most of us, Norman’s music will be an acquired taste. Many if not most Church Folk live on Planet Church Folk, where we listen to music only within very narrow parameters. Precious few of us listen to Jars of Clay or Third Day but we sneak the occasional Usher or Keyshia Cole CD into our cars. We like R&B, with much of contemporary Gospel being the same five chords re-sequenced and modulated to the point where it all sounds the same. Norman’s music exists within the realm of Bob Dylan, whom most of us never got, or Mick Jagger, who, to many of us, is even stranger. Posting an essay about who he was, about how vitally important to the music industry he was, seems futile as I doubt many people visiting this site will even bother reading this. But this is the only site I’ve got, the only place I can struggle to explain a man whose work defines me. Not that anybody’s trying, but if you ever wanted to understand me, start here. For years, I had long, Nick Ashford hair that tended to puzzle and frighten people who assumed it was a gay thing or something. Meet Larry. For years, I recorded music that teetered between Gospel and secular, with lots of social commentary blended in. Meet Larry. To this day, I exist as an outsider, not wanting to join the club that would have me.

Meet Larry.