Back in the early 1980s, I was attempting to make a living in Manhattan playing guitar and I got hooked up with an R&B band by the name of Henderson and Whitfield. Their producer, Jack Levi, thought the group needed to add a “rock” flavor to their dance beats, and that’s how I ended up as the only white Jewish guy in the band. There was never an awkward moment, and as long as I was able to hang with the music and the musicians, then religion and color had no play in the situation. Also, my theological affiliation is more cultural than it is religious and, back in the day, I was young, ambitious and just thrilled to be playing with any good act with a record deal. The band recorded a dance record for Jack’s label, Park Place Records, which had a distribution deal with Atlantic Records, and Jack was filling my head with promises of European and Asian tours to follow the release of the single. The recording, packaging and rehearsal process had taken awhile, and I was anxious to start touring and making some money, so naturally I was excited when the single was finally released. Jack was pleased as well, since he had invested a large sum of money to make it happen and he promised me that after the two leaders did some promotional club dates in the States, the band would be off to Europe.
Unfortunately, some things are not meant to be, and much to the surprise of Jack Levi and myself, one of the lead singers announced that he was an Orthodox Jew who could not perform on the Sabbath; who knew? The problem that arose from Dauid’s declaration was that — unlike the Sunday Sabbath of the Christian religion — the Hebrew Sabbath begins at sundown on Friday and ends at sundown on Saturday. Considering that most of the important showcases at dance clubs took place on Friday and Saturday night, Dauid’s religious devotion pretty much killed the band. God apparently does works in mysterious ways, and I’m not sure if an ironic God is the same as the vengeful or compassionate God, but behind this particular holy mystery that kept me from working, there was more irony than one could stuff down a Brooklyn hipster’s skinny jeans. C’est la vie.
Devotion and the Road
Being a devout religious person and attempting a career as a musician or an audio engineer is akin to mixing oil and water. I’m not saying an engineer cannot be a religious person, or vice-versa, but after all these years what seems apparent to me is that the two lifestyles seem to run along paths that veer away from each other at a severe right angle. Now, before everyone gets up in arms, please be aware that I am not questioning anyone’s religious beliefs; nor am I trying to label all audio engineers as atheists. I am just pointing out that, from my limited experience, it seems there is an inherent difficulty in combining a devoutly religious existence and the life of a working/touring audio engineer. It isn’t that the ideologies are mismatched as much as it is the juxtaposition of lifestyles that makes for a difficult marriage of career and belief. While I find many of my compatriots to be of a spiritual bent, it’s important not to confuse spirituality with the actual practice of a specific religion.
There are definite outlets for religious music, and there are many musicians and engineers who work in these specific industries. I have had quite a few friends who have toured on the Christian music circuit, and I have worked numerous gospel shows in my time, but unless a tour is expressly arranged by a specific group that adheres to all the intrinsic customs and rituals of the religion behind the music, there will be necessary sacrifices made to the secular world. Regrettably, the rigors of the road do not lend themselves to a very devout life and, whether it’s dietary restrictions, constraint in regard to prayer rituals or forbidden workdays, a pious life on the road is hard to maintain. Imagine trying to stay Kosher on the road. One would have to travel with their own Kosher caterer and, unless a band is headlining at sheds or arenas, it is doubtful that the tour budget could support a catering tent. Also, staying Kosher only takes up about 47 of the 613 commandments that are prescribed for the devout Jewish believer.
Salat, the Islamic ritual prayer, is supposed to be performed five times each day, starting at dawn, again at midday, resuming at afternoon then sunset and evening. The ritual washing of face, hands and feet is compulsory before Salat and prayer is always conducted in the direction of Mecca, utilizing a prayer mat otherwise known as sajjada. Knowing the crazy schedules we keep on the road, this type of prayer ritual might be hard to maintain, especially when traveling on a bus with ten other crew members.
Daily worship for those of the Christian denomination varies depending upon one’s affiliation, but some churches observe “mattins” and “vespers” — which are morning and evening services, while there’s also the obligatory pucharist, penance or Lent associated with many churches. Buddhists and Hindus have their own set of prescribed rituals, which are in no way any easier to take on the road, and it’s not surprising that there are quite a few audio engineers who have forsaken a career on the road so that they could stay home and attend and/or work in the house of worship of their particular faith; but that all may be a thing of the past.
Interfaith Airport Chapels
Most rules and regulations of the various religious institutions were written into their respective holy scriptures thousands of years ago and — unless I missed a chapter — probably did not take into consideration the marvels of our modern world. For example, I have not seen holy scriptures of any faith that provides a set of laws regarding how to pray while traveling 500 miles per hour at 30,000 feet. Therefore, I am assuming that when a devout person attends to their daily ministrations while traveling by air that there might be a bit of improvisation in play.
Apparently mine is not an original thought, bearing in mind that in 1951 Logan Airport became the very first airport to house a chapel aptly named “Our Lady of the Airways.” In 1954 “Our Lady of the Skies” opened at Idewild Airport, now better known as Kennedy International Airport. At the time these were Catholic chapels, but over the past few decades, due to demand, the chapels have become more inclusive of other faiths and have now become interfaith chapels welcoming not only Christians, but Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus as well as people of other faiths. Surprisingly, the Sky Harbor International Airport in Phoenix has a chapel that provides solace for more interfaith travelers than any other airport chapel in the United States. Again, who knew?
The business of interfaith airport chapels is expanding and, according to the International Association of Civil Aviation Chaplains, there are approximately 140 airport chapels around the world — with 40 or more being in the United States. These chapels may not be the answer for the very orthodox or observant members of a particular faith, but they are apparently helping those of us who might need to reconcile the demands of a modern high-flying profession with the disciplines of a religious life. Maybe these interfaith chapels will catch on, and we will begin seeing them in other public transportation hubs rather than just in airports.
Perhaps tour bus companies will design a small space on each bus to be designated as an interfaith chapel to accommodate all the religious touring musicians and engineers. Maybe tour bus drivers can be ordained and double as ministers, rabbis and priests who officiate over the bus chapel. It seems like a logical progression considering that, by the end of any given tour, most bus residents have usually had at least one overnight confessional with the driver anyway. But regardless of one’s particular religious beliefs, just choosing a life of audio requires a leap of faith that has the potential to turn into a religious fervor if everything is going according to plan; or a personal hell if it’s not.
