During my meager eight-year career in live sound, I have only feared for my safety on two occasions. One was an angry rap concert with no security to speak of, which isn't surprising, but the other was a Pentecostal revival.
Being a Christian, I always enjoy working church-related events, especially those which are, to some degree, more energetic than the ones I've experienced in my entirely Southern Baptist upbringing. But this was an evening I'll never forget. Each year, a handful of Pentecostal and other apostolic congregations join together and rent a local municipal auditorium for three nights of charismatic, spirit-filled worship services. After providing sound for this event for several years, I had become accustomed to the music styles and the needs of the musicians.
On this particular evening, I was in monitor world, providing six mixes from the stage left wall of this somewhat cramped stage area. After some awesome music, some energetic choir numbers and a powerful sermon about visions and revelations that kept all the amps in the racks just shy of thermal overload, the altar call began. That's when the trouble started.
Somehow, through 110dB stage volume and the protection of ear plugs, my attention was caught by the sound of metal folding chairs bouncing around the stage. The entire choir, filled with the spirit, was dancing around and shouting in a manner which reminded me of some mosh pits in which I've included myself in years past at Lollapalooza and similar festivals. I also noticed that a more than 300-pound choir lady, with eyes closed, hands held high and tears streaming down her face, was shouting and dancing aimlessly around the crowded and almost violent choir area.
I turned my attention back to the musicians for a moment to make sure all was well with the monitors, and when I looked back toward the choir, I noticed that our extra large choir friend was blindly shouting and dancing towards monitor world at a fairly high rate of speed. It was at this moment that I had a vision of my own. It was an image of me pinned against the wall beneath an overturned monitor console, processing rack and a heavy, flailing choir member. I almost did a little shouting myself.
Luckily, a couple of tenors saw what was about to happen and quickly stepped in, grabbed her by the shoulders and pointed her in a different direction, effectively saving me from imminent injury.
We still provide sound for this annual event, but I've moved monitor world a little farther from the choir and provided myself a more convenient escape route.
Jason Glydewell
Pure Energy Productions
Picayune, MS
