Christian Metal For Nonbelievers

When I was like seven, the Sunday school teacher assured us that God wanted to see us in his kingdom of heaven. I was pretty sure that you had to be dead to get to heaven, and therefore if God wanted me in heaven, God wanted me dead. I asked my mom if I could stop going to Sunday school and she said fine, whatever. Despite this, one of my favorite bands in high school was We Came As Romans, the oddly polite metalcore outfit from Michigan whose liner notes invariably begin with thanks be to G Oh Dee.

I recently described them to my dad as one those “you know, goofy Christian metal bands,” which he protested was a taxonomy beyond redundant. That might be true, but also, they rip shit. I’d like to retroactively claim my loyalty lie in their introspective and self-critical lyrics, that even if they were a little pretentious, they were at least not so boringly violent as Asking Alexandria or Emmure (who I also listened to lol), but honestly David Stephens could scream his order at the local parish bake sale and it would sound hard as fuck.

This was crabcore era, and I haven’t been able to find the exact video, but I remember distinctly a clip of bassist Andy Glass dipping so low during the breakdown that on a downstroke he accidentally punched the stage floor. And even though you could see it hurt like hell, he kept smiling all the same. The music was fun, despite or because of its inherent theatrics.

When I was a diehard, they would open their live sets with “What I Wish I Never Had”. Where most metalcore built towards a breakdown, WCAR usually led with the heaviest part of the song.

Stephens screams,

“Don’t catch me at the wrong time,

Or you will feel my wrath,

The one I wished I never had”

The opening lines, saying in summary, “sometimes I get mad,” feel almost comical in comparison to the contemporary company line of “I will kill you and no one will find the body”—see AA’s “Not The American Average” or ADTR’s “1958.” But like I said, Stephens says everything with his whole chest. The riff is hot iron, the double-bass, hammer and anvil.

The late Kyle Pavone plays the angel on the speaker’s shoulder most songs, professing a need for forgiveness and self-reflection that should’ve tipped me off to the Jesus-flavor. “I need to rid myself of resentment…If I’m going to live up to the words I’ve written.” Stephens cuts off the synthy seraph act, and he couldn’t help smiling when tipped the mic to the pit and the audience screamed what our moshing made obvious, “BUT I HAVEN’T YET.”

To express anger, and to laugh at one’s own shortcomings without total self-pity is not an easy act. It was never ironic, always earnest, and that’s why WCAR works. “But I haven’t yet,” is an admission of inadequacy, and an invitation to forgive oneself. For a band making ostensibly angry music, anger is not an ideal; violence is not aspirational. It’s a song about being angry at anger. Is it any less honest than the acts that revel so readily in righteous indignation?

A lot of metalcore songs start with the sentiment they’ll stick to from the first note to the last. If ever there is an emotional journey it’s a frothing up of frenzied fury. Part of the fun in “What I Wished I Never Had” is the inversion of this trope. In place of a typical hardcore breakdown, all chugging and china cymbals, there’s a calm and quiet bridge.

We have to highlight the definitive WCAR drummer, Eric Choi, who steals the show on their first two records. His playful use of accent cymbals, and the insistent variety of his beats make even the more genre-typical tracks memorable. Just listen to the fill he pulls at the 2:30 mark. Many drummers would be satisfied just to sit on the hi-hat, but he springs across the bell and splash. His cymbal-forward fills are on superb display as well in “Roads That Don’t End and Views That Never Cease.” And yes, these guys title their songs like they have a Bible in one hand and From Under The Cork Tree in the other.

In the outro, Stephens turns the key,

“These demons will never leave me

I can only find ways to not let them out

These demons will never leave me

But I control them, not the other way around.”

It’s not a huge revelation, but it is a thoughtful conclusion to draw from two failed tactics: the total ridding of resentment Pavone preaches is unrealistic, and the wanton rage Stephens embodies is untenable. Repression is not growth. To me this is also pretty progressive for anyone enmeshed in a religion that counts wrath among the deadly sins. Perhaps it’s too cheesy for some, but I think it’s an excellent example of form following function. Catharsis without violence. One gets to have their anger and eat it too.

I’d like to say I understand what my Sunday school teacher was promising, that I’ve outgrown my low-hum fear and found some peace with organized religion, but I haven’t yet.

In high school a friend asked me if I was going to see Anberlin, and I wasn’t, and he forgot this and asked like twice more. Then it became a bit. Eternally asking me if I was going to see Anberlin. Even when they were broken up the bit persisted. Anyway, “The Feel Good Drag” still fucks.