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STRYPER
BACKROOM, DAY BEFORE DEICIDE
“To
hell with the fucking devil!” That’s what I kept
yelling. I enjoyed the paradox. On one hand, this guy is yelling
out against Satan, on the other, he’s saying fuck. Would
Jesus care? You never know. I went to Stryper with one question
in mind. Do Stryper fans drink? Apparently so… Some
of them do at least, mostly the Hispanics. Yes, Hispanics
love Stryper. I couldn’t believe it either at first,
but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. These
were the same folks who welcomed Catholicism with open arms;
of course they’d embrace Stryper. So yes, the Mexicans
on the fringes of the Stryper crowd were indeed getting drunk
and loving the show. Closer to the center, around the stage,
the Zealots had better things to do. I was genuinely touched
by their obvious dedication to The Word, as well as the performance.
Incidentally, your typical “metal hand” symbol
doesn’t fly at a Stryper show, not with the Zealots.
A raised fist, a “we’re number one” finger,
or preferably two hands raised up in praise seem to be more
appropriate. Stryper had everything adorned in Yellow and
Black, in fulfillment of the scriptures. Even the pole in
the middle of the stage at The Backroom was wrapped with Yellow
and Black tape. Beyond the aesthetics, I must admit that I
was impressed with Stryper’s overall sound and professionalism.
On top of that, when they played “To Hell With The Devil”,
I nearly shit myself. Wait a minute, nearly? Strike that,
reverse it. On a cynical note, although it was good to see
Stryper make a comeback, I doubt Jesus will be charging $27.00
a head when he makes his. Plus, they had some bitch on their
crew snatching up peoples cameras. Burn in hell fuckers.
JESUS FREAK
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