Oblivians - ...Play Nine Songs With Mr. Quintron (1997, Crypt Records)

As an outsider, I've always had a sort of detached appreciation for gospel music. I grew up hearing it as interstitial music everywhere in Mississippi. It was never something I or anyone I knew would reach for for entertainment but I'd hear it in between stations, in a mechanic's waiting room, or from passing cars. 

I've always admired it, honestly. Religious music, in general, is probably the least pretentious genre. It completes itself by existing. The entire point of the music is to give thanks to someone who has given you everything; just by lifting up your voice in exaltation you've completed the "goal" of the art. Record sales, touring, even peer appreciation are all sort of secondary to the true divine purpose of gospel and, in a way, I think that makes it potentially the most "authentic" art form.

That definition only works if you give a shit about authenticity, which is something I still struggle with a lot when analyzing music. Realistically, I don't think you should. Artistic authenticity is rooted in this notion that every step of the artistic process must be "pure" and driven by solely the love of art and its pursuits. Determining if an artist is somehow "real" or a "true artist" is a fruitless endeavor.  It's an endless, zero-sum game you can choose to play with virtually no upside and a lot of realizing that the musicians you idolize are acting out a predestined part. "There is no true authenticity in art" might as well be the Exploration #4 version of  "there is no ethical consumption under capitalism." 

I've been wanting to talk about Oblivians' ...Play 9 Songs With Mr. Quintron for a while now because the concept of authenticity in punk has been on my mind for years, even before I decided to play punk myself. Punk is an endlessly frustrating genre. Its simultaneous self-concern with authenticity and its laissez-faire about virtually everything else seem at ends with each other at points. True duality of man shit, right? The most punk thing you can do is intensely care about not caring. It's a cynical view of a genre I love and a cycle I actively participate in, sure, but I don't think it's entirely off base. Even at its codification in the late 70s into a Real Deal Genre, punk was musically reactionary and politically progressive. It doesn't always hold true (early no wave being a good example), but it's relevant here.

That's why Oblivians' Play 9 Songs With Mr. Quintron is so endlessly fascinating to me. It feels like the final synthesis of both ends of the spectrum; authenticity no longer matters once the art completes its purpose by design. It could've only come out of Memphis, a city defined by its bold, unpretentious embrace of B-level status. In a way it's the ultimate southern album - a blend of working class, lo-fi rock music and spiritual yearning. Greg Cartwright pivoted the band from drunk punks to evangelistic screamers all because he bought a box of gospel singles on a whim. The change broke the band up for 15 years; they couldn't come to terms on whether or not continuing to ride the gospel train was worth it. Their reunion album, Desperation, is a return to bluesy form. The album feels like the absolute coalescence of two supposed artistic extremes but that harmony couldn't exist in the band forever.

Even the record itself is at ends with each other. The idea that a spiritual call to arms like "Live the Life" and an ode to sin like "Mary Lou" can exist on the same disc is contradictory. I recently watched a film by Tyler Keith (another unsung southern punk luminary) on the dual nature of hill country blues and gospel. So many of those artists played both sides of the field - Saturdays were secular and Sundays were spiritual. Oblivians follows in those footsteps neatly.

It's also, for my money, the best punk album of all time. Punk is about feeling and expression. The objective is to conjure up a visceral, emotional response in the listener palpable enough to have them move uncontrollably. Is that so dissimilar from church? Is that worlds apart from throwing your hands in the air in religious exaltation? I've seen Oblivians and Quintron play the album front to back. I was standing shoulder to shoulder with hundreds of other sweaty, thrashing people. In that moment, the collective felt like the one. I hadn't felt that called to prayer since I was going through confirmation in my youth group. 

When I started deciding what albums to write about, I settled on almost solely on records informed by Christianity. My girlfriend even pointed that out, saying that, in all the time she's known me, I've seemed especially drawn to spiritually-charged music. I was extremely religious in middle school and early high school (to the point of borderline-conservatism, especially when mixed with my pseudo-philosophical straight edge bullshit) but abandoned it when I was 16. I had decided that, because God simply cannot be real, spirituality as a whole had no place in my life. Spirituality was the enemy. Self improvement must be attained from elsewhere or else it couldn't possibly be genuine. My personality coalesced around that guiding principle. 

But for what?  When I hear people use terms like "magical" or "mystical" to describe the world, even non-naturally occurring parts of it, it's like hearing a different language. I've ended up completely closed off to certain sensations that other people feel when experiencing the same stimuli. I don't think I would've had the same response that Cartwright did while listening to dusty gospel 78s. I wouldn't have put together an album like this. Is that helpful to me at this point? Can I re-integrate spirituality into my life in a way that doesn't disrupt my sense of self? Am I still authentic?