PART TWO: HALLELUJAH

Part two of a multi-part series exploring the healing power of music and its role in community, protest, and radical joy

Part One

“[M]usicians and other artists invoke the spirit of the church in contexts that are well beyond the physical spaces of the church building,” Anand Prahlad (2025)

When the systems in place, never designed to help you in the first place, fail and ignore you and damn near collapse, where do you turn? What places are ready to receive you and provide sanctuary? Who will hold you tight when the night and your spirit grow cold?

Music has soothed my loneliness and been there to celebrate my achievements. And for all the things it has given me, none of it alone can heal how community does. My family and friends have been by me and we’ve sung together in woe and in triumph. When I’ve cried all my tears dry and Radiohead ceases to be of help, there’s usually only one thing left to cheer me up and make me feel like myself again: going to a concert.

It’s in this place where the lights are dim and spirits are high; where (depending on the city tbh) we’re all swaying and dancing and yelling till our lungs give out; where for this moment in time you realize that no matter how different you felt before you got there, you feel like part of the bigger picture and you belong.

Organized religion, despite its laundry list of shortcomings, provides this feeling for billions worldwide. The holy texts and the pews are lighthouse beacons, calling for the weary to come and join a community where a life of service and self-sacrifice promise to provide bounties of joy in the present and after-life.

Similar to social sororities and fraternities, prospective members are promised a lifelong community and an organized way to participate in social causes. It’s not until you’re initiated that the scales fall from your eyes and you see the shadowy places of the organization and the cracks begin to show. There’s in-house fighting, an unexplained rivalry with a group of people that you thought shared your values, and dated rules and dress codes.

But the songs are bangers; and even if your brain has deteriorated and you don’t even know your own last name, you’ll still remember how to sing the damn songs.

Singing in groups, whether it be at sorority recruitment, the church pews, or in the mosh pit, is scientifically proven to be good for your physiological and psychological wellbeing. Music is the modality by which we build community and through which I will continue my self-expression and my joyful protest.

As my father said a lot growing up, “Grab a hand, make a friend.” He probably said that so I wouldn’t get lost in the grocery store, but today I add new meaning and new lines:

Grab a hand, make a friend

Sing along, the heart will mend

As we join our hands us two

We will survive the whole night through

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Part Two

“Religious suffering is, at one and the same time, the expression of real suffering and a protest against real suffering. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people,” Karl Marx (1843)

Black gospel and church music stand as powerful expressions of faith, resilience, and cultural identity originating from slave songs, hymns, and oral storytelling traditions. Its impact on contemporary music is profound, long-lasting, and oftentimes separated from its origins.

Key sonic identifiers of gospel music include call-and-response, stomp-and-clap, and modulation. Each of these musical elements are tied to its slave song and ring shout origins. The call-and-response was an aid to the illiterate that allowed the parishioners to quickly learn the songs. The stomp-and-clap rhythms were used to set the pace of working the fields.

Chanting served as both an emotional and physical release, with modulation musically representing the tension and build-up leading to that release.

The Civil War and slavery ended in 1865. After centuries of singing about the prospect of freedom, the day had finally arrived. “Oh Freedom” was written in celebration after the war and used again as a uniting song during the Civil Rights Movement nearly 100 years later.

Charisse Barren, on “We Shall Overcome,” “I think there are many reasons why this song unified people during the Civil Rights Movement. One is that it’s easily singable: The melody isn’t difficult to remember, and you don’t have to be a trained singer to sing it. And the lyrics are so simple and relatable. […] there’s no overt claim or acknowledgment of religion in those words, which means it can reach people across traditions, ideologies, races, and it can speak so powerfully to the act of seeking justice, any kind of justice.”

Here now, 60 years past the Civil Rights Movement, we stand confronted with another test of our right to live freely. Today’s pop stars are disenchanted with organized religion but are vocal about the civil rights movements of the day including trans rights, police brutality, and immigration. Just as our society has fractured, the songs that unite us are also divisive in nature.

The GRAMMY Song and Record of the Year “Not Like Us” features the church organ prominently and has an incredibly easy chorus that empowers even first-time listeners to join the crowd and sing along. As anyone can attest to, this song brought Dodger Nation together during the World Series, Los Angeles together during the LA Wildfires, and the country together against creepy dudes. Introduced to the world as primarily a diss track, Kendrick Lamar takes a moment to remind us who the real enemy is.

Once upon a time, all of us was in chains

Homie still doubled down callin' us some slaves

Atlanta was the Mecca, buildin' railroads and trains

Bear with me for a second, let me put y'all on game

The settlers was usin' townfolk to make 'em richer

Fast-forward, 2024, you got the same agenda

On the surface level, it would seem that we’ve strayed farther and farther from God’s light, but “Not Like Us” and “Alright” by Lamar demonstrate the unifying power of music in the modern era. Perhaps Gospel, then, is less about genre and participation in the church than it is about protest, resistance, and using its musical elements to call us to action.

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Part Two Point Five

In Black churches, the “holy ghost” describes the often imitated but never duplicated experience of a parishioner being so moved by word or song that they begin “speaking in tongues” or dancing seemingly uncontrollably. Defected members of churches have looked back at their experience and described this feeling as simply the euphoria of a key change, one not dissimilar to that found in EDM music.

Musicologist, Braxton D. Shelly in his 2019 study “Analyzing Gospel” in the Journal of the American Musicological Society defines these repetitious, cyclical, and ever-increasing movements as “vamps.” He notes that the vamps enable listeners to “experience with their bodies what they believe in their hearts” and also renews the listeners’ energy as the song progresses.

The 2014 Saturday Night Live skit “When Will the Bass Drop?” by the Lonely Island featuring Lil Jon showcases this concept well using satire.

The “bass drop” runs parallel to the vamp/modulation found in church music and provides an experience where the listener gets higher and higher and feels closer to God or the feeling of euphoria. It is this sensation, in combination with group singing and clapping, that makes the live concert experience my healing practice of choice.

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Part Three

Singing along—whether in church, at a protest, or at a concert—is a deeply participatory experience that welcomes everyone, regardless of perceived ability. Everyone is free to sing, dance, and express themselves in whatever way feels most authentic. Maybe you’re the sit and swayer, the bunny hopper, or the yell till your vein bursts singer.

Both churches and concerts have their own unspoken rules and shared rituals, creating a sense of unity. Yet within that collective experience, each person expresses themselves uniquely, free from judgment because simply showing up is already an act of courage.

This feeling of inclusion and belonging is what will heal our communities — or at least give us the will to wake up and fight another day.

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How to Help

While music will aid in inner healing, there are communities that could use your support to rebuild their lives. There are many worthy causes and families in need of your help. I hope you’ll find a story that connects with you.

Displaced Black Families

Displaced Latine Families

Displaced Disabled Families

Master List of Displaced Families

And, finally, if you know anyone in the LA County area that can volunteer or donate in person: LA Fires | IN PERSON Volunteer Opps