Black British Gospel Music

Black British Gospel Music
Black British Gospel Music is a dynamic and multifaceted musical practice, a

diasporic river rooted in the experiences of Black British Christian commu
nities. This book examines gospel music in Britain in both historical and con
temporary perspectives, demonstrating the importance of this vital genre to
scholars across disciplines. Drawing on a plurality of voices, the book examines
the diverse streams that contribute to and flow out of this significant genre.
Gospel can be heard resonating within a diverse array of Christian worship
spaces; as a form of community music-making in school halls; and as a foun
dation for ‘secular’ British popular music, including reggae, R&B, hip hop and
grime.
Dulcie Dixon McKenzie is the Director of the Centre for Black Theology at the
Queen’s Foundation for Ecumenical Theological Education, Birmingham, UK.
She achieved her PhD at the University of Birmingham and has published in the
area of Black British gospel music and church history. She is a multiple award-
winning pioneer of Black British Gospel Music Radio, with a lifetime achieve
ment award.
Pauline Muir is a lecturer in Arts Management at Goldsmiths College, Uni

versity of London. Awarded a PhD from Birkbeck College, University of
London interrogating congregation music within UK Black Majority Churches,
her research interests are in the intricate interplay between ‘race’, identity,
congregational music and the Black British Gospel industry.
Monique M. Ingalls is Associate Professor of Music and Church Music Grad

uate Program Director at Baylor University in Waco, Texas, USA. She is the
author and editor of several books on congregational music-making and serves
as series editor of Routledge’s Congregational Music Studies Book Series.
Congregational Music Studies Series
Congregational music-making is a vital and vibrant practice within Christian

communities worldwide. Music can both unite and divide: at times, it brings
together individuals and communities across geographical and cultural bound-
aries while, at others, it divides communities by embodying conflicting mean-
ings and symbolizing oppositional identities. Many factors influence
congregational music in its contemporary global context, posing theoretical
and methodological challenges for the academic study of congregational music-
making. Increasingly, coming to a robust understanding of congregational
music's meaning, influence, and significance requires a mixture of com-
plementary approaches. Including perspectives from musicology, religious and
theological studies, anthropology and sociology of religion, media studies, poli-
tical economy, and popular music studies, this series presents a cluster of land-
mark titles exploring music-making within contemporary Christianity which
will further Congregational Music Studies as an important new academic field of
study.
Series Editors:
Monique M. Ingalls, Baylor University, USA
Martyn Percy, University of Oxford, UK
Zoe C. Sherinian, University of Oklahoma, USA
Studying Congregational Music
Key Issues, Methods, and Theoretical Perspectives
edited by Andrew Mall, Jeffers Engelhardt and Monique M. Ingalls
Ethics and Christian Musicking

Edited by Nathan Myrick and Mark Porter
Hymns and Constructions of Race

Mobility, Agency, De/Coloniality
Edited by Erin Johnson-Williams and Philip Burnett

From the Windrush Generation to Black Lives Matter
Dulcie Dixon McKenzie, Pauline Muir and Monique M. Ingalls
For more information about this series, please visit: https://www.routledge.

com/Congregational-Music-Studies-Series/book-series/ACONGMUS
From the Windrush Generation
to Black Lives Matter
Edited by
Dulcie Dixon McKenzie, Pauline Muir and
Monique M. Ingalls
First published 2024
by Routledge
4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN
and by Routledge
605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2024 selection and editorial matter, Dulcie Dixon McKenzie, Pauline Muir
and Monique M. Ingalls; individual chapters, the contributors
The right of Dulcie Dixon McKenzie, Pauline Muir and Monique M. Ingalls
to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for
their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77
and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or
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Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or
registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation
without intent to infringe.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
A catalog record has been requested for this book
ISBN: 9781032145853 (hbk)

ISBN: 9781032195643 (pbk)
ISBN: 9781003259800 (ebk)
DOI: 10.4324/9781003259800
Typeset in Sabon
by Taylor & Francis Books
Contents
List of illustrations vii

List of contributors viii
Introduction: Rivers of Babylon: Contextualizing Black

British Gospel Music 1
PAULINE MUIR, DULCIE DIXON MCKENZIE AND MONIQUE M. INGALLS
1 Look Where God has Brought Us!: Remembering the Religious

Foundations of Black British Gospel Music 19
DULCIE DIXON MCKENZIE
2 ‘Gifts and Talents’: Sacred and Secular Musical Performance

at a Suburban British Pentecostal Church 44
NATALIE HYACINTH
3 Just Like Church, Not Like Church, or Better Than Church?:

Community Gospel Choirs as Lived Religion and Convivial
Spiritual Practice in the Contemporary United Kingdom 62
MONIQUE M. INGALLS
4 Black British Gospel Music: A Perspective from a Reluctant

Choir Director 83
GERALDINE LATTY-LUCE
5 Black British Gospel-Pop Crossover: ‘Gospel Codes’

in the Music of Stormzy and Mica Paris 105
MATTHEW WILLIAMS
6 The ‘Sacred’ and ‘Secular’ Interplay Within Gospel Grime

Performance 123
SAMSON TOSIN ONAFUYE
vi Contents
7 Don’t Shoot the Messi(nJ)ah’: Charting the Growth
of the Gospel in Great British Grime Music 147
MONIQUE CHARLES
8 The Jamaican Bible Remix: A Theomusicological Praxis for

Bridging the Gap between Black Liberation Theology and
Contemporary Gospel Music in Britain 169
ROBERT BECKFORD
9 Black British Gospel Music and the Question of Belief (in God) 191
ALEXANDER DOUGLAS
10 Decolonising Congregational Music 205

PAULINE MUIR
11 Black British Gospel Music Past, Present, and Future: Final

Reflections from the Editors 227
DULCIE DIXON MCKENZIE, PAULINE MUIR AND MONIQUE M. INGALLS
Afterword - We need Black Power, Lord! 241

WILLIAM ACKAH
Index 248
Illustrations
Figures
3.1 British Perspectives on Gospel Music’s Origins and Owners 67
8.1 Album cover, Jamaican Bible Remix 182
Tables
3.1 Demographic Information for Gospel Stories Survey (GSS)
Respondents 68
3.2 ‘Where Did You First Encounter Gospel Music?’ 69
3.3 Top 20 Words Related to Gospel’s Meaning and Effect 71
10.1 CCLI UK Top 10, 16 August 2021 210
Contributors
Monique Charles is an assistant professor of Sociology at Chapman University;

a cultural sociologist, theorist, and methodologist. She developed a research
method to analyse music for the social science and cultural studies fields
(Musicological Discourse Analysis – MDA) and a theory on Black music
and spirituality in live performance/clubbing spaces (AmunRave Theory).
She is on the editorial board of the Global Hip Hop Studies.
Matthew Williams is a lecturer in music at the University of York. He studied
for his PhD in musicology at the University of Bristol. His interests include
popular music, religion, secularisation, and utilising semiotic theory to
study meaning-making in music. He is writing a monograph tentatively
titled ‘Gospel-Pop Crossovers: Secularisation and the Sacred’ under contract
with Oxford University Press.
Alexander Douglas FRSA is Lecturer in Music at King’s College London,
Senior Lecturer in Music and Applied Humanities at Trinity Laban Con-
servatoire of Music and Dance and the Assistant Secretary for Theology and
Race for the Society for the Study of Theology.
Natalie Hyacinth is an academic and artist, creating and thinking about music
at the intersection of sound, gender and Black life. Natalie is currently a
Researcher on the European Research Council funded Sonic Street Tech-
nologies project at Goldsmiths, University of London. Natalie explores
electronic sound making under the name The Black Astral.
Monique M. Ingalls is Associate Professor of Music and Church Music Grad-
uate Program Director at Baylor University in Waco, Texas, USA. She is the
author and editor of several books on congregational music-making and
serves as series editor of Routledge’s Congregational Music Studies Book
Series.
Geraldine Latty-Luce is Director of Worship Arts at Dordt University (Iowa,
USA). She served previously as Lecturer at the London School of Theology.
An Associate of the Royal School of Church Music as a Choir Animateur,
she is an experienced choir director, songwriter, and recording artist.
List of contributors ix
Robert Beckford is the Professor of Climate and Social Justice at the University
of Winchester and serves as Professor of Black Theology as the Queen’s
Foundation for Ecumenical Theological Education (Birmingham, UK). He
has also worked as a BAFTA-winning television presenter, BBC radio
broadcaster, and playwright.
Dulcie Dixon McKenzie is the Director of the Centre for Black Theology at the
Queen’s Foundation for Ecumenical Theological Education, Birmingham,
UK. She achieved her PhD at the University of Birmingham and has pub-
lished in the area of Black British gospel music and church history. She is a
multiple award-winning pioneer of Black British Gospel Music Radio, with
a lifetime achievement award.
Pauline Muir is a lecturer in Arts Management at Goldsmiths College, Uni-
versity of London. Awarded a PhD from Birkbeck College, University of
London interrogating congregation music within UK Black majority Chur-
ches, her research interests are in the intricate interplay between ‘race’,
identity, congregational music and the Black British Gospel industry. She
has publications in this field.
Samson Tosin Onafuye is a visiting lecturer who explores the intersections of
race, religion, class, gender, and music. He is currently an independent
scholar who continues to work with universities, domestically and
internationally.
William Ackah is Senior Lecturer in Black and Community Geographies and
Programme Director for Community Development and Public Policy and
Community Leadership at Birkbeck, University of London. He is current
chair of the Transatlantic Roundtable on Religion and Race.
Introduction
Rivers of Babylon: Contextualizing Black
British Gospel Music
Introduction
The arrival of the Empire Windrush in 1948 signalled the beginnings of mass
post-war immigration of African Caribbean people to the United Kingdom.1
Since then, Black British people have formed churches and other Christian
institutions that have been central to their social, political and religious lives. It
was in these churches that choirs, ensembles, praise and worship teams and
soloists developed the musical entity that this book is calling Black British
Gospel Music (BBGM). BBGM is a dynamic and multifaceted musical practice.
As the chapters of this book demonstrate, Black British Gospel Music is a
diasporic river rooted in the experiences of Black British Christian commu-
nities. From the mid-twentieth century to the present day, many tributaries
have flowed into this river, and plentiful streams have influenced ‘secular’
music, Christian worship practices and community music-making alike.
Black British Gospel Music is the first book-length academic text focused on
British gospel music; as such, one of its chief goals is to bring this area of study
to the attention of the scholarly community as well as practitioners, and to
demonstrate its significance across multiple conversations. This book draws on
a plurality of voices, including scholars established in their field, junior aca-
demics and gospel music practitioners and contributes to current academic
debates through the lens of this under explored and hitherto under researched
area. This book’s contributors examine Black British Gospel Music in histor-
ical and contemporary perspectives using lenses from several disciplines,
including post-colonial studies, musicology, theology and education. This book
establishes a historical framework for British gospel’s development, high-
lighting significant events, individuals and institutions. Chapters focused on the
present day demonstrate the complex relationship between gospel and other
forms of congregational music, between forms of gospel practice by African
diasporic groups and predominantly white British choirs and between gospel
industries in Britain, America and Europe.
The book’s introduction will first unpack the central conceptual metaphor
of ‘Rivers of Babylon’, a twin theoretical framework of Empire and Chris-
tianity. Then we will discuss the terms that comprise our object of study,
2 Pauline Muir, Dulcie Dixon McKenzie and Monique M. Ingalls
examining the complex and often contested resonances of ‘Black’, ‘British’
and ‘Gospel Music’. An overview of the academic literature will establish the
scholarly foundations of our book, highlighting the gaps in understanding that
our study aims to fill. We end the introduction with a summary of the three
parts of the book and the individual chapters within them.
Understanding Confluences of Empire and Christianity: A Theoretical

Framework
Exiled in Babylon
By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered
Zion. We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. For there they
that carried us away captive required of us a song: and they that wasted us
required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.
Psalm 137:1–4 (KJV)
These verses taken from the book of Psalms in the Old Testament tells the
story of the children of Israel taken into captivity by the Babylonians.2 This
provides an evocative context in which to begin the first academic book about
UK Black gospel music. Following the Babylonian overthrow of Jerusalem in
586 BC, this community lament, highlights the grief felt by the Jews as they
recall their homeland. There is an explicit connection made in this psalm
between the terror of forced migration and the inability to engage in musick
ing. This community struck by devastation and terror are unable to sing in
exile.
It is this theme of exile, perennial to the children of Israel in the Old Testa
ment, which is similar to the European enslavement of Africans and therefore
resonates with the Black experience in the diaspora. Indeed, this theme has
often been utilized by theologians and scholars as source material to understand
this experience.3
In addition to the theme of exile, Black people in the diaspora have used the
twin themes of Empire (which is implicit in the psalm) and Babylon (which is
explicit) to characterize colonial and post-colonial environments as reminiscent
of their lived experience.
Empire as Repression
Empire was a physical reality and a tangible memory for the Windrush gen
eration. Although, this later morphed into the more seemingly benign entity of
the Commonwealth, the reality of the British Empire for many in the Car
ibbean was a brutal and ‘messy in between space.’4 Arguably, the empire
provided infrastructure, education, law and order, yet, the injury to economic
self-determination and psychological well-being was great. The eminent cultural
studies scholar Stuart Hall describes himself as the ‘last colonial’ and relates in
Introduction 3
moving detail the psychological impact and havoc that living in a Jamaica divided
by class and colourism wreaked on his family and their sense of self. He describes
how colonialism dissolves and makes invisible the rich heterogeneity contained in
people groups.
Colonialism condensed the diversity of global complexities and temporal

ities into a single narrative, in effect colonizing the multiplicity of everyday
stories, such that the one overarching narrative (‘the rise and rise of the
West’) took command.5
Beckles, more searing in his critique, states that colonial interests cause Car
ibbean islands to sink into ‘unpardonable misery’6 citing how these islands were
plundered for their natural resources and human labour to facilitate financial and
national advancement for the UK. And it is from this unpardonable misery that
the Windrush generation arrived in ‘Babylon’.
Babylon as a place of exile has long been understood by Rastafarians not as a
physical location, but as a set of ideas, processes and systems directly linked
and embedded in imperialism that seeks to dehumanize and undermine the
people of Jah7 (i.e., God’s people). ‘Babylon is the complex of economic, poli
tical, religious and educational institutions and values that have evolved from
the colonial experiments’.8 It also came into popular usage by the first genera
tion of the Windrush youth to mean any authoritarian system, like the police,
with whom they were in constant conflict. This language of the last century
may no longer be common nomenclature, but the symbolism of Babylon is still
a lived reality for many people of African descent in twenty-first-century Brit
ain. While the much-maligned Commission on Race and Ethnic Disparities cites
‘many instances of success among minority communities’,9 indeed, as stated by
Gilroy so eloquently, ‘…though things have changed around British racism, the
sad sources, unhappy contents and depressing vehicles of that racism have not
altered beyond recognition.’10
River as Metaphor
And so, we begin our first academic text on Black British Gospel Music by the
rivers of Babylon. In the biblical text the rivers of Babylon were networks of
irrigation canals from the Tigris and the Euphrates used to irrigate Babylon.11
We have utilized the metaphor of river to describe Black British gospel music(s).
The location of the river provides further resonances for understanding and
positioning our topic. The sources of this river are Black Majority Churches
(BMCs) in all of their diversities, who like their US counterpart provided and
still provide a social, psychological and spiritual sanctuary away from the dis
crimination, racism and trauma of social disadvantage in housing, education
and employment.12 According to Smith and Green13 the churches gave con
gregants their dignity, nurtured their self-confidence and gave them back their
humanity. For some, the church became a place where they would weep, sing
and dance. She opines there were ‘times of real joy, meeting together, tam
bourine, music, rejoicing and hallelujah. The way we know how to worship.’
It was in this river of music and worship that many Caribbean people sang,
wept, prayed and yearned for a better life for themselves and their offspring.
How Can We Sing the Lord’s Song?

In order to draw further meaning from the metaphor we argue, that like the
children of Israel who were required to sing the songs of Zion in a strange land,
Black British Gospel Music has often been used as a signifier in official public
ceremonies and in the public square. Beckford in critiquing Black Christian
representation in the media denotes the ‘ubiquitous black choir’14 which he
argues in the 1990s was used as a type of ‘black face ideology’,15 as a stereo
typical image of BMCs. We assert that it is still the case that in the twenty-first
century, the Black church choir is used as a symbol of good multi-cultural
relations, perhaps the most prominent recent example of this was the perfor
mance by the Kingdom Choir at the wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan
Markel.
These Rivers Flow Out to the Sea

As demonstrated by this volume, these rivers as cultural, creative flows of dia
spora emanating from BMCs, uncontainable by institutional spaces cascade into
the sea of wider society, and evidences themselves in unforeseen and unexpected
places. The lakes, ponds and springs that constitute Black British gospel music
can be found in the UK and also further afield. Black Church choirs are often
seen on national TV (Songs of Praise, Choir of the Year, Glastonbury) at
national events such as FA Cup Final, Red Nose Day, Cancer Research World
Aids Day (https://lcgc.org.uk/); at events of international significance such as COP
2616 and closing ceremony of the Invictus Games.17 Musicians trained in the
church populate the secular music industry.18 Gospel music troupes can be
found in secular performances.19, Non-religious community choirs are led by
BMC representatives in towns and cities all over the UK. Black gospel music is
syncretized through other forms such as grime.20 And finally, perhaps, it is also
used as a means of emphasizing local and national prominence: a number of
UK Black gospel music luminaires were recognized in the Queen’s birthday
honours list.21
However, despite these very significant flows, Black British Gospel Music is
invisible in the annuls of academia within the UK. Although there is public
scholarship such as Olusoga,22 Akala23 and Hirsch,24 who, in recent years
segment the totality and history of being Black and British and explore
hitherto undocumented narratives; there are no references in these texts to
Black British religious life. Indeed, there are no references to the music, which
is arguably the most significant artistic product to emerge from the BMCs. It
could be argued that these texts are not concerned with music, but when one
Introduction 5
looks at musically-focused works like Bradley’s ‘Sounds like London: 100 years of
Black Music in the Capital’, Boakye’s Musical Truth: A Musical History of
Modern Black Britain in 28 Songs, Stratton and Zuberi’s Black Popular Music in
Britain since 1945, there is a similar omission. And while there are an increasing
number of works addressing specific Black British ‘secular’ musical genres, 25 (hip
hop, along with some sources on British jazz),26 there is no corresponding work
addressing British gospel as a genre in its own right. This results in a serious
deficit in the epistemology of the Black British people.
‘Black British Gospel Music’: Towards a Generative Definition

‘Black’. ‘British’. ‘Gospel’. ‘Music’. Each of these terms is at the centre of
volumes of academic explanation and debate. The goal of this section is not to
encapsulate each in a neat, one-size-fits-all definition, but rather to chart a path
through our use of these complicated and contested terms. This volume’s invo
cation of ‘Black British Gospel Music’ as a singular entity, as well as each of its
individual components, is intended to expand outward rather than to restrict.
Here we employ the definitional approach described by Mark Porter in his
work on resonance within Christian music-making. In his approach to defining
resonance, Porter argues for the ‘productive potential in holding together and
moving between both precise and less-precise conceptual understandings as
tools for research’.27 He notes that avoiding definitions that are too constricting
allows for application to more diverse set of cases. Following Porter’s model, we
intend our key concepts to create a ‘generative space that opens out onto the
richness, plurality, and multi-dimensionality of the world around, through which
different possibilities can be contemplated and tried out’.28
We will begin with a discussion of ‘Black’ as it pertains to Black British
Gospel Music. Following many contemporary scholars and journalists, we will
employ the upper-case ‘B’ in ‘Black’ throughout our introduction to this volume
when referring to people of African descent and their cultural contributions.34
Kwame Anthony Appiah argues that
a good reason to capitalize the racial designation “black,” then, is precisely

that black, in this sense, is not a natural category but a social one – a col
lective identity – with a particular history… What’s more, the very label
‘black’ plays a role in generating that identity.29
Music is often accorded a privileged place in generating and reflecting Black

identity. In his often-cited discussion of the politics of Black diasporic identity,
Paul Gilroy argues that
music and its rituals can be used to create a model whereby identity can be
understood neither as a fixed essence nor as a vague and utterly contingent
construction… Black identity is not simply a social and political category;
it is lived as a coherent (if not always stable) experiential sense of self.30
Following Appiah and Gilroy, our use of ‘Black’ seeks to underscore that this
category is rooted in lived experience whilst constantly undergoing negotiation
and transformation.
Gospel music has long been recognized as a musical product of Black com
munities living in North America. While African America looms large in widely
circulating narratives about gospel music, other African diasporic communities
have played significant roles in its creation and transmission. In choosing to
employ the term ‘Black British Gospel Music’, we are asserting a historical
rootedness and unique form of embodiment that is grounded within BMCs and
led predominantly by Black British individuals of African Caribbean and West
African descent. In doing so, we acknowledge the historical origins of the genre
to have come through various transnational African diasporic communities
(though departing in places from gospel music’s African American ‘master
narrative’) and the continued nurture of gospel music through individuals and
communities of the African diaspora. In doing so, our rationale parallels that
described by Pauline Muir in her use of the term ‘Black Majority Church(es)’.
Muir writes, ‘While I recognise the diversity and difference that reside within
BMCs, use of the term allows me to privilege a particular social history and
aesthetic practice.’31 It should also be noted that our understanding of ‘Black’
centres upon communities descended from Africa and its diaspora, as
opposed to the broader British political usage of ‘Black’ (sometimes referred
to as ‘political blackness’) that included other non-white Britons, such as
those from South and West Asia.32
We also recognize the potential difficulties with our use of the term
‘Black’ in relationship to gospel music practices in contemporary Britain. By
associating gospel music with Black British communities, we do thereby wish
to imply that Britons of other ethnic and racial backgrounds do not enjoy or
perform gospel music. Conversely, several chapters of the volume will
demonstrate the strong appeal of gospel music to non-Black British singers
and listeners. The accounts in this book will chronicle the involvement of
those from non-Black backgrounds within the Black British gospel scene,
particularly as it relates to community choirs; for instance, multiracial choirs
who sing gospel, and Black gospel choir directors training white directors in
how to lead their own gospel choirs. We also realize that prefacing gospel
music with the descriptor ‘Black’ may not be universally embraced even by
Black British musicians themselves, some of whom understand gospel music
not as a music not ‘owned’ by a particularly ethno-racial group but rather
as an ecumenical Christian offering of worship.33 Within an expansive, rather
than restrictive sense of ‘Black British Gospel Music’, each of these instances
reside uncomfortably within, rather than neatly outside of, the phenomenon
we are discussing. And this expansive sense allows each of our volume
contributors to weigh in differently on what gospel music is and means to its
practitioners, as they untangle the complicated discourses about what constitutes
‘real’, ‘authentic’, or ‘good’ gospel music in the British context.
Introduction 7
For the purposes of this volume, we invoke the term ‘British’ to demarcate
a geographical boundary around the practice and performance of gospel
music. The gospel music that this book discusses is that which is created, or
arranged, or performed within the United Kingdom. It is the gospel music
performed by musicians in Britain and for audiences, congregations and
communities in Britain (and, increasingly, further afield). Whilst limiting the
geographical scope, we acknowledge the dense interconnections between local,
national, and transnational practices of gospel music. For instance, Black
British Gospel Music has often modelled itself upon African American gospel,
and contemporary performances of gospel in Britain still often retain a strong
American accent.34 But though African American influence looms large, Black
British gospel music does not consist merely of the imitation of gospel songs,
styles and practices from elsewhere in the Black Atlantic. Rather, other
transnational musical streams will be shown to be of great importance to
British gospel music. Caribbean choruses, British urban genres like grime,
West African popular and gospel traditions, white Australian and American
pop-rock praise and worship music and even classical choral music have each
played a role in shaping the unique styles of gospel music that are practiced
around Britain today.
The one final term in need of explanation is ‘gospel music’. Our under
standing of gospel music is indebted to both the large body of work African
American tradition35 and the emerging academic literature on gospel musical
traditions that have taken root around the world.36 This book will show the
extent to which British gospel partakes of the global trend of localizing gospel
music. In the variety of global contexts in which it is located, ‘gospel music’
frequently defies any neat categorization. Gospel is simultaneously a mass-
mediated popular music, a grassroots folk music, and sometimes a ‘high art’
style produced by formally trained musicians. As such, gospel music resides
equally – and oftentimes uneasily – within the church, the commercial sector,
and the community. Within the British context, Black Majority Churches,
secular and sacred music industries and African Caribbean community organi
zations all provide fertile ground for the growth of gospel music. Increased
migration to the United Kingdom from West Africa, often coming with an
imperative toward missionize the ‘indigenous’ white British population, has
further increased gospel’s diversity. While often paying homage to African
American songs and styles, Black British Gospel Music is distinct because it
incorporates a mix of other intersecting streams, including Caribbean and West
African choruses, African diasporic pop traditions, Western classical music con
ventions, praise and worship music, and sometimes even domesticated white
European ‘wospel’.37
In order to account for the wide variation in local practices, this book
adopts a discursive approach for defining gospel music as a genre. In her
examination of congregational music within Black Majority Churches, Pauline
Muir models this discursive framework, noting that it proceeds from two pre
mises: first, that elements of culture such as music are ‘constitutive of and not
merely reflective of social worlds’, and secondly, ‘that music is affective and
invested with enormous power, and congregational singing as a semiotic
practice is a site where multiple meanings can be found’.38 As popular music
theorist David Brackett notes, ‘[musical] genres are not static groupings of
empirically verifiable musical characteristics, but rather associations of texts
whose criteria of similarity may vary according to the uses to which the genre
labels are put’.39 Rather than defining ‘gospel’ through a series of pre-defined
traits, instead we consider ‘gospel’ to be what the various musical commu
nities at the centre of the chapters’ case studies call gospel music. Recognizing
that musical genre labels are ‘system of difference’40 produced through discourse,
we privilege the Black British Christian community as the locus around and
through which this discourse circulates. We simultaneously acknowledge the
contributions of other cultural groups (for instance, ethnically diverse university
student groups, white evangelical Christians and travelling African American
gospel artists) as well as corporate entities (including British broadcast media and
commercial music industries) to this ongoing discourse. As a result of Black
British Gospel Music’s diverse practices, the portrayals of gospel in the various
chapters of this book are often in harmony but may sometimes be in discord.
The chapters in this book demonstrate the extent to which Black British gospel
music’s definition is fluid, always contingent upon ongoing conversations in
multiple sectors of British social life.
Selected Literature Review

As the ensuing chapters in this book will show, Black British Gospel Music is
emerging as a subject of study that is gaining sustained scholarly attention. At
last, since the first PhD study appeared in the academy in 2014,41 there are a
growing number of scholars conducting research of Black gospel music from a
British context. Dulcie Dixon McKenzie asserted then that there was a serious
gap in knowledge concerning the rise of BBGM owing to a lack of systematic
research studies, resulting in a deficiency of analytical sources paying critical
attention to its growth.42 The lack of analysis, McKenzie argued, is mainly
because of an unconscious appropriation of the well-known historical narrative
of African American gospel music, rendering studies specific to BBGM as long
overdue.43 Currently, observations about BBGM is largely limited to mostly
popular descriptions and commentaries in popular literature, newspaper and
magazine articles, and on various social media platforms. What follows is a
general overview of prototypes observant of BBGM, as much as possible in
chronological order (and including some of the places where BBGM is also
ignored). Regarding published written texts, there is a growing cluster of books
identifiable as popular literature, which has been gradual and necessary.
Although there are limitations with these sources, the overall content has at
least occupied the longstanding gap of scholarly works.
The book credited as the first to pay attention to BBGM is Viv Broughton’s
Black Gospel: An Illustrated History of the Gospel Sound.44 Published in 1985,
Introduction 9
it starts with a brief synopsis of the emergence of Spirituals in America and
proceeds to give an autobiographical overview of several historical figures of
Black gospel music in America. Broughton highlights notable soloists, male
quartets, female artists and choirs and groups up until the mid-1980s, and then
turns attention to BBGM in the final chapter. Broughton initiates a convincing
description of an emerging Black gospel music scene in Britain during the 1970s
and 1980s, and notes that ‘gospel music in Britain is only now just starting to
come into its own as a popular culture.’45 In 2009, some 25 years after
Broughton’s book, Steve Alexander Smith published British Black Gospel: The
Foundations of This Vibrant UK Sound.46 Smith provides a pictorial overview
of Black British gospel artists, presenting his own timeline of the development
of ‘UK gospel’ in phases.
In 2014, entrepreneur Isaac Odeniran published a book called Jordan’s
Demeanours: Research into UK Black Gospel Music.47 As a collective effort of
a research project part funded by the National Lottery Fund, it attempts to tell
the history of UK gospel music from the Windrush years to present day. It
identifies prominent individuals as significant contributors to the journey of
BBGM, which includes singers, song writers, choir directors, promoters and
radio personalities. The book is mostly comprised of personal accounts that
present as essays and summaries of profiles, and a collection of group pictures
of UK representatives of BBGM with American counterparts.
Recently, radio and television producer Roy Francis has published two books
How to make gospel music work for you,48 and Windrush and the Black Pen
tecostal Church in Britain.49 Both books include personal accounts of his
experience of historic Black churches and Black gospel music. The first book
initiates practical advice for aspiring artists of BBGM. Noticeably, there are
overlapping themes and duplication in the second book that is largely a dis
cussion about Black historic churches in Britain.
When it comes to contemporary scholarly writings of Black British history in
general, in some cases BBGM is overlooked. For example, in an edited Black
British History: Black Influences on British Culture (1948–2016),50 historian
Robin Walker and colleagues offer a socio-historical overview of Black lives in
Britain during that era. Black cultural production such as calypso, reggae,
lovers’ rock and soul; BBGM, however, is excluded from the dialogue. In socio
historical literature, BBGM is also ignored as a Black British feature. In short, the
exclusion of BBGM in these key texts implies that BBGM is insignificant as a form
of Black social history in British society.
Conversely, some music scholars acknowledge the growth of BBGM as a
Black British musical form,51 and others recognize it as a distinct genre of
Black British music.52 In other music literature, despite the rapid growth in
studies of other Black British musical genres, BBGM is totally ignored.53 In
terms of Black Christian studies and theology, surprisingly there is not an
exhaustive list of publications that comprehensively include BBGM. There are
references to Black congregational worship as an important feature of Black
Christianity in Britain, however, in general, there is a mix of publications
making little connection to any role that Black churches might have on the rise
of BBGM, and not including it. Arguably, the first book published to take Black
Christianity in Britain seriously is Roswith Gerloff’s impressive two-volume
manuscript, A Plea for British Black Theologies: The Black Church Movement
in Britain in Its Transatlantic Cultural and Theological Interaction. 54 Gerloff
carefully maps the landscape of Black Christianity in Britain, identifying the
range of congregations and denominations, church leaders and the kinds of
theologies in each. Notably, Gerloff makes reference to gospel music, and
expresses regret that it was not possible to include further research of what she
saw as an area of empowerment.55
More recently, Pentecostals and Charismatics in Britain is a collection of
essays edited by Joe Aldred,56 which includes a chapter about women in Min
istry and British Pentecostalism. Author Lamount includes music in her dis
course about women’s roles in Pentecostal ministries, and attentively adds that
women are taking leading role in worship and playing music in churches. In
chapter 7, there is reference to worship, where author Daniel Akhazemea
highlights the importance of worship for diverse groups of Pentecostals in
England and the wider UK. Akhazemea describes the worship event in African
and Caribbean churches as ecstatic using singing and dancing with loud excla
mations,57 however, how these expressions have evolved or might be modelled
outside of Black congregational worship, is ignored. Conversely, in an edited
book about the Black Church in the twenty-first century,58 again edited by Joe
Aldred, and Keno Ogbo, there is a chapter dedicated to gospel music and the
Black church. British gospel pioneer and author Juliet Fletcher laments about
gospel music being mistreated by the black church, with a request, by the
author for church musicians as professionals and practitioners to be paid.59
Further, in an earlier collection of essays that features the idiosyncrasies of Black
congregational worship, Joel Edwards, noticeably, does make connections with
religio-cultural elements of Pentecostalism, and the music of the youth – the
second generation of African Caribbean Pentecostals.60
In terms of BBGM in the written press, there has been a steady growth of
popular press providing regular descriptions and anecdotes about BBGM. For
example, in certain religions periodic publications, there are regular news-
driven stories about BBGM, such as in the Black Christian magazine Keep the
Faith, soul stirring page in the Voice newspaper and Cross Rhythms. A now
defuncted weekly newspaper New Nation had a rival gospel music page called
The Gospel Flava, which was diligent in reporting more controversial stories
related to BBGM. In terms of digital media, there are also various websites,
blogs and social media pages that provide up-to-date features and information.
Book Organization and Chapter Summary

Black British Gospel Music is bookended by a revisitation of the musical past
and a glance forward into the future. McKenzie’s opening chapter points to the
Caribbean roots and religious foundations of Black British Gospel Music, and
Introduction 11
grounds the music’s foundation and nurturance within Black Majority Chur
ches. The three editors’ final chapter propels the discussion forward, with sug
gestions for theoretical and methodological approaches for future study.
The interior chapters of the book are conceptually divided into three sec
tions. The first section entitled ‘Choirs and Congregations’ explores the two-
way flow of gospel music streams between Christian churches and other
societal institutions. Like a tidal river whose water is constantly flowing out
and back in, Black British Gospel Music pours out from Black Majority
Churches into multicultural churches and community choirs, and it often
flows back to these ecclesial spaces intermingled with ‘secular’ popular music.
The adoption of gospel music within non-BMC spaces demonstrates the
music’s appeal across cultural and racial/ethnic divides, whilst raising critical
questions about the music’s shifting meanings and social functions. Natalie
Hyacinth examines the adoption of ‘secular’ songs and styles into a west
London suburban Pentecostal church, demonstrating the process by which
secular commercial music styles are re-imagined as ‘gifts’ from God to be
fused with gospel and used in worship. Monique Ingalls explores how gospel
choir music has flowed out of Black Majority Churches and is now flourishing
in British community choirs. Ingalls’ chapter demonstrates that gospel choirs
unaffiliated with churches serve as spiritual communities for British singers of
diverse backgrounds and attests to the intertwining roles of Black Majority
Churches, popular British media, and choir director ‘gatekeepers’ in shaping
this unique form of spiritual collectivity. Geraldine Latty-Luce offers a scho
lar-practitioner’s perspective on her own thirty-year journey as a ‘reluctant’
gospel choir director. Latty-Luce’s chapter attests to gospel music’s ability to
shape personal narratives and demonstrates that gospel community choirs are
often places for powerful spiritual encounters.
The second section, entitled ‘Sacred and Secular Intersections’, focuses on
how Black British Gospel Music has informed and influenced various genres of
commercial popular music. Contributors follow this particular stream from the
Windrush era to UK rap, hip hop and grime, drawing on the performance of
diverse musical artists, from Dizzee Rascal to Mica Paris to the Kingdom
Choir. Matthew Williams’ chapter examines the history and significance of
‘gospel codes’, which he defines as ‘units of musical meaning…that signify
gospel music’ to uninitiated listeners within British popular culture. Drawing
from a study of crossover artist Mica Paris, Williams notes that gospel codes
are increasingly conditioned by the British pluralistic frame. Tosin Onafuye’s
chapter describes ways that the ‘sacred’ and ‘secular’ are intertwined within
gospel grime. Onafuye contends that gospel grime finds continuity within
transatlantic Black religious music even as it engages in ‘a politics of disruption’
by challenging the socially constructed boundaries between sacred and secular.
Monique Charles’ chapter complements Onafuye’s by paying close attention
to the religious discourse of grime’s ‘Messi(nJ)ahs’ – a rich term pointing
to the prophetic function of grime MCs. She demonstrates how grime has
enabled listeners to negotiate their social identities and individual well
being in response to endemic problems within a society often hostile to
Black bodies and expressions.
The final section entitled ‘Decoloniality and the Politics of Gospel’ critically
examines Black British Gospel Music using the interpretive frames of decolo
nization and the politics of racial and religious identities. Robert Beckford
interrogates the music emanating from the post-war African Caribbean gospel
scene for its lack of relevance both musicologically and socially. Alexander
Douglas advances a critique from the perspective of a practitioner and philo
sopher, demonstrating what is at stake when gospel music crosses lines of
race/ethnicity and faith. Tackling the ever-present yet often unvoiced ques
tions of who is allowed to sing gospel music, Douglas advances the argument
that gospel music is inherently a ‘doxastic venture’, and that any would-be
performers must take seriously the faith tradition that undergirds it. Pauline
Muir’s chapter turns the conversation towards a different but related ques
tion: why is British Black Gospel Music largely invisible in the popularity
charts that track British church music? Muir examines the music industry
structures within which contemporary congregational music is ensconced,
demonstrating that these structures privilege white songwriters and artists
while reinforcing the invisibility of Black gospel songwriters. The book con
cludes with a reflection by the co-editors on future directions that research on
Black British Gospel Music can take.
Notes
1 The Empire Windrush was a passenger ship that brought several hundred Afri
can Caribbean immigrants from Jamaica to Britain in 1948. (In the same year,
the British Nationality Act gave to residents of British colonies the right to
enter and settle in the United Kingdom.) While not the first ship to carry Car
ibbean migrants, its voyage became the most well-known. As a result, the
African Caribbean adults and children that migrated during the postwar years
are collectively known as the ‘Windrush Generation.’ For further discussion of
religious and musical practices of the Windrush Generation, see Roy N. Francis,
Windrush and the Black Pentecostal Church in Britain (Croydon, Surrey: Fila
ment, 2020), and Dulcie Dixon McKenzie, ‘The Future of the Past: Forging a
Historical Context for Black Gospel Music as a Tradition amongst African Car
ibbean Pentecostals in Post-War Britain’ (PhD Dissertation, Birmingham, UK,
University of Birmingham, 2014).
2 Matthew Henry, Matthew Henry’s Commentary on the Whole Bible (London:
Marshall, Morgan and Scott, 1960), 722.
3 Joe Aldred, ‘The Flourishing of the UK African and Caribbean Diaspora in the
Twenty-First Century with Reference to Jeremiah’s Letter to Jewish Exiles in Baby
lon Sixth-Century BCE’, Black Theology, 30 June 2022, 1–13, https://doi.org/10.1080/
14769948.2022.2091813.
4 Stuart Hall, Familiar Stranger: A Life between Two Islands, Life between Two
Islands (London: Allen Lane, 2017), 31.
5 Hall, Familiar Stranger.
6 Hilary McD. Beckles, How Britain Underdeveloped the Caribbean: A Reparation
Response to Europe’s Legacy of Plunder and Poverty (Kingston: The University of
the West Indies Press, 2021).
Introduction 13
7 See Bob Marley’s album Chant Down Babylon and song ‘Babylon System’.
8 Nathaniel Murrell, William David Spencer, and Adrian Anthony McFarlane, eds.,
Chanting Down Babylon: The Rastafari Reader (Philadelphia: Temple University
Press, 1998), 24.
9 ‘Foreword, Introduction, and Full Recommendations’, GOV.UK, accessed 12 Ju
ly 2022, https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/the-report-of-the-commissio
n-on-race-and-ethnic-disparities/foreword-introduction-and-full-recommendations.
10 Paul Gilroy, There Ain’t No Black in the Union Jack: The Cultural Politics of Race
and Nation, Routledge Classics (London; New York: Routledge, 2002).
11 Raymond E Brown, Joseph A Fitzmyer, and Roland E Murphy, The Jerome Biblical
Commentary. Vol. 2 (London: Chapman, 1981).
12 Babatunde Adedibu, Coat of Many Colours: The Origin, Growth, Distinctiveness
and Contributions of Black Majority Churches to British Christianity (Blackpool:
Wisdom Summit, 2012), 47.
13 Io Smith and Wendy Green, An Ebony Cross (London: Marshall Pickering, 1989),
p. 43.
14 Robert Beckford, Documentary as Exorcism: Resisting the Bewitchment of Colonial
Christianity (London; New York: Bloomsbury, 2014), 13.
15 Beckford, Documentary as Exorcism, 21.
16 Christian Aid, ‘Christian Aid Event at Glasgow Cathedral Aims to Raise the
Roof and Inspire Conversation and Action around Climate Justice’, n.d., accessed
12 July 2022, https://mediacentre.christianaid.org.uk/christian-aid-event-at-gla
sgow-cathedral-aims-to-raise-the-roof-and-inspire-conversation-and-action-around
climate-justice/.
17 2GB Sydney, ‘Royal Wedding Choir Takes on Aussie Classic for Invictus Games
Performance’, 26 October 2018, accessed 12 July 2022, https://www.2gb.com/roya
l-wedding-choir-takes-on-aussie-classic-for-invictus-games-performance/.
18 Pauline E. Muir, ‘Place, People, and Pentecostal Habitus,’ in Black Music in Britain
in the 21st Century 2023, edited by Monique Charles and Mary W. Gani (Liverpool:
Liverpool University Press, 2023).
19 Teresa L. Reed, The Holy Profane: Religion in Black Popular Music (Lexington: The
University Press of Kentucky, 2004).
20 Caroline Bithell, A Different Voice, a Different Song: Reclaiming Community
through the Natural Voice and World Song (Oxford; New York: Oxford University
Press, 2014).
21 ‘Gospel Giants Celebrated in the Queen’s Birthday Honours’, Keep The Faith, 2
December 2020, https://www.keepthefaith.co.uk/2020/12/02/gospel-giants-celebra
ted-in-the-queens-birthday-honours/.
22 David Olusoga, Black and British: A Forgotten History (London: Macmillan, 2017).
23 Akala, Natives: Race and Class in the Ruins of Empire, (London: Two Roads, 2019).
24 Afua Hirsch, Brit(Ish): On Race, Identity and Belonging (London: London: Vintage
Books, 2018).
25 J. Griffith Rollefson, Flip the Script: European Hip Hop and the Politics of Post
coloniality (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2017), https://ebookcentral.
proquest.com/lib/goldsmiths/detail.action?docID=5892739.
26 Andrew Simons, Black British Swing: The African Diaspora’s Contribution to Eng
land’s Own Jazz of the 1930s and 1940s (London: Northway Publications: [dis
tributor] Central Books Ltd, 2010). Hilary F. Moore, Inside British Jazz: Crossing
Borders of Race, Nation and Class, Ashgate Popular and Folk Music Series (Alder
shot, Hampshire; Burlington, VT: Ashgate Pub, 2007).
27 Mark Porter, Ecologies of Resonance in Christian Musicking (New York, NY:
Oxford University Press, 2020), p. 22.
28 Porter, Ecologies of Resonance, 23.
29 Though the editors have chosen this tactic, chapter contributors within this volume
will take differing approaches to the definition.
30 Kwame Anthony Appiah, ‘The Case for Capitalizing the “B” in Black,’ The Atlantic,
June 18, 2020, https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2020/06/time-to-capitalize
blackand-white/613159/.
31 Paul Gilroy, The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double-Consciousness, Reissue
edition (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1993), p. 102.
32 Pauline E. Muir, ‘Sounds Mega: Musical Discourse in Black Majority Churches in
London’ (PhD thesis, London, UK: University of London, 2018), p. 31.
33 For a history of political blackness in the UK, see Claire Alexander, ‘Breaking Black:
The Death of Ethnic and Racial Studies in Britain,’ Ethnic and Racial Studies 41, no.
6 (30 May 2018): 1034–54, https://doi.org/10.1080/01419870.2018.1409902. See also
William B. Ackah and Dr Biko Agozino, Pan-Africanism: Politics, Identity and
Development in Africa and the African Diaspora (London: Taylor & Francis Group,
1999).
34 Pauline Muir discusses these attitudes and criticisms that inform certain British Black
leaders’ resistance to the designations ‘Black’ and ‘Black Majority Church’ (Muir,
‘Sounds Mega’, 29–31).
35 This ‘accent’ is heard in the emulation of African American performance styles and
songs, as noted in Ackah (Pan-Africanism) and Muir (‘Sounds Mega’). However, it
can sometimes extend to a literal emulation of the Black American dialect. In her
fieldwork in this volume, Ingalls has noted a propensity within some British gospel
choirs to emulate American English diction.
36 For an annotated bibliography of significant scholarly sources on gospel music, see
Birgitta Johnson, ‘Gospel Music’, Oxford Bibliographies, 2017, https://www.oxford
bibliographies.com/view/document/obo-9780190280024/obo-9780190280024-0052.xm
l. Johnson’s overview demonstrates the heavy American emphasis within gospel
music scholarship. Of the 86 scholarly sources referenced, 79 concern African
American gospel music, while only seven sources focus on gospel music outside the
United States.
37 For overviews of localized gospel and Christian musical styles outside North Amer
ica, see Monique Ingalls, ‘International Gospel and Christian Music,’ 333 Sound
Blog, 2014, https://333sound.com/epmow-vol-9-gospel-and-christian-popular-music/;
Mellonee Burnim, ‘Tropes of Continuity and Disjuncture in the Globalization of
Gospel Music,’ in The Oxford Handbook of Music and World Christianities, ed.
Jonathan Dueck and Suzel Ana Reily, Oxford Handbooks Online (New York:
Oxford University Press, 2016). For book-length scholarly treatments of gospel music
traditions outside North America, see Timothy Rommen, ‘Mek Some Noise’: Gospel
Music and the Ethics of Style in Trinidad, Music of the African Diaspora 11 (Ber
keley: University of California Press, 2007); John Burdick, The Color of Sound:
Race, Religion, and Music in Brazil (New York: University Press, 2013); McKenzie,
‘The Future of the Past’; Mark W. Lewis, ‘The Diffusion of Black Gospel Music in
Postmodern Denmark: With Implications for Evangelization, Meaning Construction,
and Christian Identity’ (PhD dissertation,, Kentucky: Asbury Theological Seminary,
2008), https://search.proquest.com/docview/304817922/abstract/
A86697A8F58F401EPQ/1; Melvin L. Butler, Island Gospel: Pentecostal Music and
Identity in Jamaica and the United States, vol. 3, African American Music in Global
Perspective (Champaign: University of Illinois Press, 2019), https://doi.org/10.5406/j.
ctvscxs8p.
38 The term ‘wospel’ (‘white gospel’) is drawn from Gerardo Marti, Worship across the
Racial Divide Religious Music and the Multiracial Congregation (New York: Oxford
University Press, 2012). Marti notes that within non-Black individuals use the term for
self-deprecation within American multiethnic churches that use black gospel music.
Introduction 15
39 Muir draws elements of her discursive framework from French musicologist Jean Jac
ques Nattiez. See Jean-Jacques Nattiez, Music and Discourse: Toward a Semiology of
Music (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1990).
40 David Brackett, Categorizing Sound: Genre and Twentieth-Century Popular Music
(Oakland, California: University of California Press, 2016), 3–4. In synthesizing
earlier ideas from musicologist Franco Fabbri with philosophers Deleuze and
Guattari, Brackett goes on to define a musical genre as an assemblage that
‘articulates together notions of musical style, identifications, visual images, ways
of moving and talking, and myriad other factors’ (Categorizing Sound, 10).
41 Brackett, Categorizing Sound, 8.
42 McKenzie, ‘The Future of the Past’.
43 McKenzie, ‘The Future of the Past’.
44 Dulcie Dixon McKenzie, ‘Toward Teaching Black Theology through Black Gospel
Music in Britain,’ Discourse 8, no. 2 (2009).
45 See Viv Broughton, Black Gospel: An Illustrated History of the Gospel Sound
(Dorset: Blandford Press, 1985).
46 Broughton, Black Gospel, 157.
47 See Steve Alexander Smith, British Black Gospel: The Foundations of This Vibrant
UK Sound (London: Monarch Books, 2009).
48 Isaac Odeniran, Jordan’s Demeanours: Research into UK Black Gospel Music
(Peterborough: Fast-Print Publishing, 2014).
49 Roy N. Francis, How to Make Gospel Music Work for You: From the Music of the
Windrush Generation to Present Day Gospel (Surrey, UK: Filament, 2019).
50 Roy N. Francis, Windrush and the Black Pentecostal Church in Britain (Surrey, UK:
Filament, 2020).
51 Robin Walker, Vanika Marshall, Paula Perry, and Anthony Vaughan, Black British
History: Black Influences on British Culture (1948–2016) (London: Reklaw Education
Limited & Croyden Supplementary Education Project, 2017).
52 Paul Oliver, ed. Black Music in Britain: Essays on the Afro-Asian Contribution to
Popular Music (Milton Keynes: Open University Press, 1990).
53 Jason Toynbee, Catherine Tackley, and Mark Doffman, eds., Black British Jazz:
Routes, Ownership and Performance (Surrey: Ashgate, 2014); Oliver, Black Music in
Britain.
54 Lloyd Bradley, Sounds Like London: 100 Years of Black Music in the Capital
(London: Serpent’s Tail, 2013).
55 Roswith I. H. Gerloff, A Plea for British Black Theologies: The Black Church
Movement in Britain in Its Transatlantic Cultural and Theological Interaction, 2
vols., vol. 1 (New York: Peter Lang, 1992).
56 Gerloff, A Plea for British Black Theologies.
57 Joe Aldred, ed. Pentecostals and Charismatics in Britain: An Anthology (London:
SCM Press, 2019).
58 Daniel Akhazemea, ‘Pentecostal Diversity in England and the Wider UK,’ in Pente
costals and Charismatics in Britain: An Anthology, ed. Joe Aldred (London: SCM
Press, 2019), 80–81.
59 Joe Aldred and Keno Ogbo, The Black Church in the 21st Century (London: Darton,
Longman and Todd, 2010).
60 Aldred and Ogbo, The Black Church in the 21st Century.
61 Joel Edwards, Let’s Praise Him Again (Eastbourne: Kingsway, 1992).
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Introduction 17
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Britain.’ PhD Dissertation, Birmingham, UK, University of Birmingham, 2014.
Moore, Hilary F. Inside British Jazz: Crossing Borders of Race, Nation and Class. Ash-
gate Popular and Folk Music Series. Aldershot, Hampshire; Burlington, VT: Ashgate
Pub, 2007.
Muir, Pauline E. ‘Sounds Mega: Musical Discourse in Black Majority Churches in
London.’ PhD thesis, University of London, 2018.
Muir, Pauline E. ‘Place, People, and Pentecostal Habitus.’ In Black Music in Britain in
the 21st Century 2023, edited by Monique Charles and Mary W. Gani. Liverpool:
Liverpool University Press, 2023.
Murrell, Nathaniel, William David Spencer, and Adrian Anthony McFarlane, eds., Chanting
Down Babylon: The Rastafari Reader. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1998.
Nattiez, Jean-Jacques. Music and Discourse: Toward a Semiology of Music. Princeton,
NJ: Princeton University Press, 1990.
Odeniran, Isaac. Jordan’s Demeanours: Research into UK Black Gospel Music.
Peterborough: Fast-Print Publishing, 2014.
Oliver, Paul, ed., Black Music in Britain: Essays on the Afro-Asian Contribution to
Popular Music. Milton Keynes: Open University Press, 1990.
Olusoga, David. Black and British: A Forgotten History. London: Macmillan, 2017.
Porter, Mark. Ecologies of Resonance in Christian Musicking. New York, NY: Oxford
Reed, Teresa L. The Holy Profane: Religion in Black Popular Music. Lexington: The
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Rollefson, J. Griffith. Flip the Script: European Hip Hop and the Politics of Post
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Williams, Justin A. Brithop: The Politics of UK Rap in the New Century. New York:
1 Look Where God has Brought Us!1
Remembering the Religious Foundations of
Dulcie Dixon McKenzie
Introduction
Black British gospel music (hereafter BBGM) has arrived! It is now an exciting
contemporary musical art form recognised nationwide. It is featured on UK
mainstream television,2 on radio station playlists,3 visible on social media
platforms,4 and included in periodic written press.5 Over the years, various
awarding bodies have conferred BBGM practitioners and commentators for
their ongoing contributions6 and more recently, individuals have also received
royal honours.7 In addition to receiving awards, notably, BBGM singers and
musicians have contributed to royal religious ceremonies witnessed live on
television worldwide.8 In short, BBGM has entered places far beyond the
imagination of its pioneers, appearing in arenas ordinarily preserved for
celebrities.
Notwithstanding the widespread recognition of BBGM, societal attention
seems limited to its sonic, aesthetic, and cultural qualities. This is a disquieting
observation as it raises critical questions of whether there is genuine public
interest in the origins and historical development of BBGM. Where, for
example, can we find systematic historical inquiries about the advent of
BBGM? Where are the critical analyses of the people who shaped BBGM as a
musical genre? Where are the historical interpretations regarding the con-
tribution of BBGM to British society? The evidence so far suggests that the rise
of BBGM and its significance has not caught the attention of academic histor-
ians. Consequently, as a musical tradition, studies about its historical
development is a major gap in the academy.
By comparison, the rise of African American gospel music is well known.
Countless historical interpretations attend to its early beginnings from various
disciplines and perspectives. Noticeably, the historical narrative is widely pro-
pagated in academic writings, popular literature, and African American cul-
tural identity. The widespread distribution of knowledge concerning the
evolution of African American gospel music makes it a dominant historical
narrative. Scholars and commentators, especially of religion and music, tend to
turn to the variety of accessible sources for guidance. However, the dominance
of the African American historical narrative of Black gospel music has
20 Dulcie Dixon McKenzie
problematic consequences for BBGM. Due to the failure of academics to
engage effectively with the historical development of BBGM, there is a lack of
systematic knowledge to help navigate details concerning its past. Thus, it is
common to apply historical particularities of the well-documented history of
African American gospel music to tell the story of the rise of BBGM.9 As a
specific example, when attempting to convey sacred singing of the past, it has
been usual for BBGM artists to sing African American Spirituals.10 However, it
is questionable if African American Spirituals accurately represent a Black
British historical context of sacred singing, which raises further questions
about what is known concerning the roots and route of BBGM. Therefore,
charting the religious trajectory of BBGM is a necessary task and a work in
progress.11 Meanwhile, historical accounts of BBGM are conveyed in popular
literature and social media. The treatment, however, is primarily biographical
descriptions of selected individuals, groups, and bands. 12
The concern in this chapter is that BBGM has matured as a musical art form
in British society without a meaningful understanding of its historical devel-
opment. Details about its antecedents lay dormant, confined mainly to the
memories of its forebears, pioneers, and early participants. As such, BBGM is
a ‘glocal’13 musical genre in need of historical excavation. It has a past waiting
to be critically explored and explicitly articulated, which is beyond the scope
of a single chapter. Nevertheless, this chapter and those that follow in this
book indicate a bright future for the scholarship of BBGM. However, before
more scholars embark on exploring the advancement of BBGM in its various
ways, the emerging contemporary gaze of BBGM is only going to be effective if
capturing the historical context and interpreting the existential experience of
its forebears and pioneers is sufficiently achieved. In this present work, I
prioritize looking back at the rise of BBGM as a tradition amongst African
Caribbean people in Britain as a historical project long overdue. I reject the
African American hegemony of Black gospel music history to direct atten-
tion towards social and religious matters that reflect an African Caribbean
Pentecostal past.
Initiating a Historical Pathway for the Study of BBGM

Since the historical development of BBGM has been an unexamined phenom-
enon, a critical question is necessary: where might be a propitious place to
start searching for historical details about the emergence of BBGM? First, it is
instructive to note that BBGM is a religious musical expression that has grown
from within a faith context in Britain – Black Christianity. Illustrative of an
emergence of Black Christianity in Britain is the rise of the assortment of Black
churches that emerged on British soil after World War II. The churches were
founded by African Caribbean men and women who had travelled from the
Caribbean as economic migrants to take up job vacancies that needed to be
filled in war-torn Britain. This particular part of British history generally
positions the highest concentrated number of African Caribbean men and
Look Where God has Brought Us! 21
women coming to Britain en masse since 22 June 1948, when some 500 African
Caribbean migrants disembarked a ship called Empire Windrush at Tilbury
docks in Essex. In the years after, the migrants of the post-war era became
known as the Windrush generation.
Significantly, many Windrush migrants arrived in Britain as people of faith,
identified as, for example, Anglicans, Methodists, Catholics, Baptists, and
Seventh Day Adventists.14 At the centre of this chapter are Windrush migrants
of faith persuaded by Holiness, Pentecostal and Apostolic teachings.15 I will
call them Windrush Pentecostals. The faith life of Windrush Pentecostals
deserves special attention as their actions filled gaps in British society. For
example, Windrush Pentecostals pioneered congregations that fostered a faith
community of Black Pentecostal churches, which paved the way for spirited
congregational worship. Congregants of adults, children, and young people
were encouraged to enthusiastically sing songs, play music, recite biblical text,
and share testimonies as liturgical offerings. Black Pentecostal congregations
convened worship services that included communal participatory ‘perfor-
mance,’16 which enabled congregants to develop skills to lead singing and
musicking17 confidently. For a better understanding about the role of Black
Pentecostal congregational worship shaping the musical skills of its con-
gregants who became BBGM singers and musicians, historical inquiries about
the rise of Black Pentecostal churches in post-war Britain and the role of
liturgical practices will be essential.
This chapter initiates a historical discourse concerning the early beginnings
of Black Pentecostal churches in Britain to chart its influence on the birth of
BBGM. It seeks to observe the roots and route of BBGM through an explora-
tion of the faith practices of its forerunners, Windrush Pentecostals in the
churches they founded in Britain. It advances an argument about the power of
the faith life of Windrush Pentecostals influencing the formation of its young
congregants destined to become BBGM singers and musicians. It points to
Windrush Pentecostals tenaciously pioneering the congregations that estab-
lished the early assemblies and denominations of African Caribbean Pente-
costalism congregations in Britain. The post-war African Caribbean
Pentecostal churches in Britain represent the religious institution foundational
to BBGM. Additionally, the collection of African Caribbean Pentecostal chur-
ches of the post-war years was the precursor to the current diversity of Black
Pentecostal churches that include a variety of African-initiated congregations
with African church leaders.18
Although twenty-first-century BBGM includes many African singers and
musical bands from many of the African Pentecostal churches, this chapter
posits the contribution of post-war African Caribbean Pentecostal churches
and its founding members central to the early beginnings of Black gospel music
forging as a tradition in Britain. It proposes that African Caribbean Pentecostal
churches nurtured the growth of extemporal Black sacred singing and music
amongst the children and young people in its congregations. The children and
young people were second-generation Windrush Pentecostal descendants
inspired by their African Caribbean forebears – Windrush Pentecostals. The
children and young people gained the confidence and competence to eventually
take their sacred music outside the church walls into wider British society,
such as theatres, concert halls, clubs, and share on various media platforms. As
such, many Windrush Pentecostal descendants pioneered Black gospel music in
Britain and became BBGM artists. I call them Windrush Pentecostal Progenies.
The central argument in this chapter is that BBGM is a religious continuum
of post-war Black Pentecostal congregational worship founded by Windrush
Pentecostals. However, the religious influence of the church is an aspect of the
past that is yet to be adequately recognised for its role in nurturing the birth of
BBGM. Specifically, the influence of the faith lives and liturgical practices of
Windrush Pentecostals energising the growth of BBGM, is yet to be uncovered
as significant components of the past concerning the growth of BBGM. Inves-
tigating a ‘Black Pentecostal past’ will provide more knowledge about the
religious beginnings and theological virtues of BBGM. Thus, the faith life and
liturgical expressions of Windrush Pentecostals in Black congregational worship
are legitimate sources to examine the historical development of BBGM.
A Black British Pentecostal Inquiry of BBGM

Investigating the history of BBGM will require an interdisciplinary approach
that embraces the various facets of BBGM. However, in this chapter, I aim to
highlight the need for historical analysis of BBGM amongst African Caribbean
Pentecostals as a religious continuity of African Caribbean Pentecostal spiri-
tuality that includes social experiences. A necessary first task, therefore, is
contextualising the socio-historical and religio-cultural roots of BBGM as an
expression of Black Christianity. As such, for a critical dialogue, this chapter
explores the convergence of three dimensions fundamental to understanding
the rise of post-war Black Pentecostal churches in Britain as foundational to
BBGM: Black ecclesiology, spirituality, and liturgy. It points to the three fac-
tors as essential to the empowerment of Windrush Pentecostals as they pio-
neered churches and led worship that would inspire the birth of Black sacred
singing and music amongst second-generation Pentecostal descendants.
My suggestion to include the above three factors for inquiring about the
history of BBGM is framed around two interconnected questions 1) what do
we learn if we examine the faith life of Windrush Pentecostals as founding
members of the Black Pentecostal churches as the religious institution that gave
birth to BBGM? 2) to what extent was the religiosity of Windrush Pentecostals
contributory to the birth of BBGM and is intentionally remembered in the
musical performances of second-generation Pentecostal descendants – Windrush
Pentecostal Progenies?
Singing and music are essential components of Pentecostal congregational
worship.19 In Britain, key aspect of the early musical beginnings of Black Pen-
tecostalism was the religiosity and liturgical practices expressed in congrega-
tional worship animated in the singing of old-time Pentecostal hymns, songs,
and choruses. With this in mind, this chapter will include the lyrics of a selec-
tion of songs and choruses as a sample of the repertoire of songs that shaped
congregational singing in the worship experience of post-war African Car-
ibbean Pentecostal churches. Significantly, lengthy singing of old-time Pente-
costal hymns, songs, and choruses was central to the worship event of African
Caribbean Pentecostal congregations that children and young people in the
congregations learnt to sing and play. Thus, investigating the overall musicol-
ogy and theology of post-war African Caribbean Pentecostal congregational
worship is fundamental to understanding the early beginnings of Black sacred
singing and music of second-generation Windrush Pentecostal descendants.
Arrival and Settlement of Windrush Migrants

To illuminate the social reality and religious context for Windrush migrants, a
review of their social and religious experience during settlement in Britain in
the post-war years is necessary. Although there was a pre-Windrush era of
Black people living in Britain before the arrival of the ‘Windrush ship’ in
1948,20 many would agree that the arrival of African Caribbean men and
women in Britain during the post-war years irreversibly changed the country’s
social, economic, and religious landscape. When Britain needed help to rebuild
the nation after World War II, the government turned to the Commonwealth
countries to solicit labourers. The English-speaking Caribbean islands were
designated places to lobby for labourers. As such, based on a long and com-
plex history, African Caribbean men and women were in the frame to travel to
Britain and, in some cases, return to Britain21 to enhance the labour force.
On arrival, there was no state-organised provision for Windrush newcomers.
Consequently, they had to fend for themselves, which meant they faced many
obstacles. For example, they attempted to rent rooms but were often refused
accommodation for no other reason than their skin colour. They saw signs on
windows saying, ‘No Blacks, no Irish, no dogs.’22 Once accommodation was
found, it was usually a bedsit or a room in a house sharing kitchen and bath-
room facilities with other tenants. Because of racist attitudes in Britain, Black
migrants were susceptible to unscrupulous landlords offering squalid and
overcrowded conditions.23 Still on the point about accommodation difficulties
for Windrush migrants, obtaining a mortgage proved difficult for those who
could afford to purchase homes. Nonetheless, when they eventually bought a
home, some became landlords or surrogate guardians providing temporary
shelter or long-term accommodation for other newly arrived migrants from the
Caribbean.
Securing employment in post-war Britain was also a challenge. There were
many job vacancies; however, Windrush migrants faced job discrimination
from the outset. At the application stage, there was a preference to employ
white men and women instead of Black newcomers. After they were recruited,
Windrush migrants experienced further hostility from all levels of work col-
leagues. Regarding finances, accumulating savings from wages was another
challenge for Windrush migrants. The cost of living in post-war Britain and
sustaining monetary commitments to relatives back in the Caribbean meant
that many Windrush migrants faced additional economic challenges. The lack
of overall governmental support to assist the migrants to find suitable accom-
modation, overcome employment difficulties and financial struggles in the back-
drop of a racist society, illustrates how settlement for Windrush generation
members was a perplexing time.
Another challenge for Windrush migrants as newcomers in post-war Britain
that was indefensible were barriers to practising their Christian faith. After
arriving in Britain, Windrush migrants looked for local assemblies of the his-
toric denominations known to them in the Caribbean. They assumed they
would attend the denominational churches as newcomers; however, clergy and
congregants in Britain’s host churches were overtly racist towards them. How
Windrush migrants of faith responded to the rejection from host churches
varied. Some stayed and sought to remain in the congregations,24 some did not
return and lost their faith, others abandoned the idea of attending the host
churches and defected to Pentecostalism.25 How Windrush Pentecostals, in
particular, responded to hostility and rejection from host churches and
wider British society is significant to the rise of Black Pentecostal churches
in Britain.
The Rise of Black Pentecostal Churches in Post-war Britain

Well positioned as an aide-memoire of Britain’s overt racism during the post-
war years, is the abiding presence of historic Black Pentecostal churches foun-
ded by members of the Windrush generation – Windrush Pentecostals.26 The
racist attitudes and practices of Britain’s post-war Christian community remain
part of Britain’s past that is yet to be fully addressed in contemporary dis-
courses of Britain’s religious history.27 Nonetheless, when Windrush Pentecos-
tals faced rejection from the host churches, they pioneered an alternative space
to ensure they could have Christian worship. In so doing, they led the way in
democratising Christianity for Black Pentecostals in Britain.28 Various inde-
pendent assemblies and church denominations evolved with varying theologies
and church governance.29
Current Christian studies and autobiographies assert that some Black con-
gregations emerged because Windrush Pentecostals travelled to Britain with
missionary intent to evangelise and minister to fellow migrants.30 Selwyn
Arnold (1934–2013) describes how some migrants who travelled from the
Caribbean as pastors witnessed on the ships ‘riotous and licentious living.’31
Fearful that on arrival in Britain, fellow migrants would lose their souls,
migrant ministers would pray for their fellow shipmates and encouraged them
not to forget God in their search for riches.32 Most Windrush Pentecostals,
however, travelled to Britain hoping to share Christian fellowship with their
Christian siblings. On arrival, when they experienced a frosty reception from
clergy and congregants in the host churches, not finding a welcoming place to
have Christian worship was a dilemma. Understanding how Windrush Pente-
costals responded to having no ‘home church’ is central to appreciating their
spirituality, which will be discussed later.
In the meantime, Windrush Pentecostals decisively and courageously created
independent spaces for Christian fellowship. Individuals opened their living
spaces, such as bedsits and front rooms to other migrants to share Christian
fellowship and worship together. They were committed to seeing the gather-
ings grow; hence as other new migrants arrived, they would be invited to join,
which influenced the growth of the gatherings. As more migrants joined, the
expanding gathered groups in various parts of Britain grew until finding larger
venues to meet were necessary. Windrush church pioneers, therefore, hired
public venues such as school halls, community halls, and social clubs to soli-
dify a legitimate space to host congregational worship. For the members of the
gatherings, there was a collective desire for success. Accordingly, congregants
invested wholeheartedly in supporting the needs of the growing congregations.
They gave their time and donated finances in response to the ongoing needs of
what was emerging as churches. As such, they sought to establish and maintain
a place they could call their ‘home church’.
The Multiple Functions of Post-war Black Pentecostal Churches

The rise of Black Pentecostal churches in post-war Britain was important for
several reasons. Amongst them, the churches helped to facilitate Christian fel-
lowship, enhance individual Christian growth, help affirm a faith identity, and
serve the growing socio-political and spiritual needs of its congregants and the
wider community. During that era, the churches had three converging char-
acteristics that would help to aid the varying needs of Windrush migrants in
general, and Windrush Pentecostals in particular: social, religious, and liturgical.
Social Support
When Windrush migrants experienced hostility from wider British society, the
Black church was where they could find social support. It was a place of
refuge. There are examples of how as newcomers in Britain, congregants
would support one another in many ways, such as helping to find accom-
modation, employment, and at times, financial help.33 They shared news,
practical advice, and help. When Windrush migrants started to have children,
or the children they had left behind in the Caribbean eventually joined them in
Britain, there was a network of childcaring support. Io Smith (1937–2008),
who became a Pentecostal church leader after experiencing rejection from a
local mainstream church, describes the combined ways the Black church
offered her support with childcare:
I would walk into church with my child and everybody there was so
loving. Everybody wanted to give a helping hand. They took the child
from me, fed it even. I just felt a belonging. Sometimes when service was
finished I didn’t know who had my child. They went from one hand to the
other. They slept on one sister’s lap, then another sister would take over.34
In the post-war years and the period that followed, Black Pentecostal churches
also offered educational support, especially to children. For example, weekly
Sunday school and Christian teachings provided additional guidance for moral
living and gaining life skills.35 The church was also a place where congregants
could find financial support. Christopher A. Johnson describes how Black
churches in Britain have been involved in economic activities since their early
beginnings.36 Johnson refers to financial church matters as ‘faith economics’
and suggests that Black churches have always had the potential to be finan-
cially influential.37 Although more could be said about financial and social
support for migrants during the post-war years, in sum, for Windrush Pente-
costals, the Black church occupied much of their social world, where they
could convene to experience support for various social needs.
Religious Support
For Windrush migrants who had entered Britain as ardent Pentecostal believers
or converted after they arrived,38 the Black church in the post-war years was
an affirmative space. Although Windrush Pentecostals experienced hostility
and rejection from British society, their inner strength was influenced by their
faith beliefs. Despite societal hostility, Windrush Pentecostals had no desire to
be associated with British culture or the recreational lifestyle of wider British
society. Instead, they were willing to avoid any perceived entrapment of this
world that might distract them from living a holy life. Regular gatherings for
communal worship, therefore, helped Pentecostal congregants to maintain holy
living – a condition they believed necessary for sustaining spiritual power.39
Specifically, Windrush Pentecostals strived to uphold a life of holiness. A holy
life exemplified personal piety as a sign of a ‘sanctified’ life.40 A sanctified life
signified a life set apart, a dedicated life characterised by Christian discipleship
defined by a life of service through a personal relationship with God.41 For
instance, maxims such as ‘I am saved to serve,’ ‘Redeeming the time,’ and ‘I
am a conqueror’ were reminders of an ongoing commitment to a holy life.42
Their religious beliefs revealed their level of commitment and a renewed spirit
as this chorus communicates:
I’m a new creation, I’m a brand-new man [woman]

Old things are passed away, I’m born again.
More than a conqueror, that’s who I am;
I’m a new creation, I’m a brand-new man.43
African American scholar Cheryl Sanders provides an example of the ideal of

holy living whilst researching Pentecostal churches in America. In Saints in
44
Exile, Sanders found that the older types of Pentecostal churches distinguish
their congregants as ‘saints.’ The ‘saints,’ Sanders explains, see themselves ‘in
the world, but not of it.’45 They call themselves ‘saints’ to characterise their
voluntary status of alienation from wider American society, also as a protest
against Black protestant Christians that preferred an intellectual approach to
faith. According to Sanders, the saints chose not to assimilate and imitate the
worship modes of host churches such as Anglicans and Methodists, thus
creating a self-imposed exile. These churches are labelled ‘Sanctified churches,’
aligning with their holiness theology.
Sanders’ observations call to mind Windrush Pentecostals. In the post-war
years in Britain, they sought an independent space for Christian worship for a
deeper life of spirituality.46 They were determined to maintain a holy life, and
heaven was their ultimate goal, as this chorus shows:
Heaven is better than this,

Oh my what joy and bliss
Walking on the streets of shining gold
In the land where we’ll never grow old.
Heaven is better than this,
Oh my what joy and bliss,
I love the preaching and the testimony too,
But heaven is better than this! 47
Congregational Worship: Liturgical Support
Windrush Pentecostals remained committed to meeting regularly, and Black
churches provided the space to foster Christian fellowship and participate in
congregational worship services. Congregational worship was where commu-
nal rituals were observed and liturgical practices expressed. The gatherings
were regular: Sunday morning and evening services, and weekly evening gath-
erings. For example, weekly Bible study, prayer meetings, testimony service,
youth service, choir practice, and evangelising. The sustained weekly schedule
was to support individual Christian growth and the life of the church. As
newcomers, congregants were excited about being together. Church historian
and theologian Roswith Gerloff described their gatherings as a ‘joyful party
before the Lord – a celebration of blessings amidst the hardships during the
week.’48 Windrush Pentecostals were also keen to sustain a strong faith life;
thus saw the need to maintain coming together for Christian fellowship and
participate in congregational worship. The following chorus exemplifies the
sentiment of being together for Christian worship:
We are together again, just praising the Lord,

We are together again, in one accord.
Something good is going to happen, something good is in store,
We are together again, just praising the Lord. 49
Black churches, in the post-war years, provided a space for the expression of
liturgical rites and the administration of sacraments in congregational worship.
For instance, it was where congregants could participate in liturgical practices
such as singing, praying, testifying, and hearing sermons. Sacraments were also
major liturgical forms expressed in historic Black Pentecostal churches enabled
by the congregants receiving Holy Communion and the washing of feet. Other
sacraments, such as baby dedications, were also administered. However, it
must be said that before Windrush Pentecostals could afford to purchase
church buildings, the sacraments of water baptism and weddings could only
occur in a neighbouring church. Thus, in the early years, the sacraments of
water baptism required hiring a church pool in a church nearby and wedding
ceremonies officiated in a registered church. More about sacraments and litur-
gical practices could be said here, however, suffice to state that overall, during
the post-war years, Black churches provided much-needed help and support,
filling a gap in meeting the social and religious needs of the increasing number
of Windrush migrants when they arrived.
Pentecostal Spirituality
A vital element of the faith life of Windrush Pentecostals was their spirituality.
Thus, to better understand the worldview of Windrush Pentecostals, a con-
sideration of their spirituality is necessary. Spirituality, in short, is faith beliefs
animated through lived experiences.50 From the many other definitions of
Christian spirituality,51 one that encapsulates well the sentiment of Windrush
Pentecostal spirituality is how Gordon S. Wakefield (1921–2000) articulates it:
Spirituality is what ‘makes us tick.’ It is the sum of forces, influences,

beliefs, disciplines, conscious or unconscious, which possess us, determine
our motives and behaviour and shape our personalities.52
Pentecostal spirituality influenced Windrush Pentecostals in many ways that

indeed determined their motives and actions. Their deep emphasis on main-
taining a strong faith life contributed to a self-understanding of purpose and
mission, characterised by a spirituality that empowered them to be resilient
and intentional. As such, they lived a life driven by purpose, persuaded by a
deep desire to live a holy life. Maintaining a holy life was essential, and their
beliefs steered how they lived out their faith. Their beliefs and customs guided
their thoughts and how they aimed to live their lives as they negotiated every-
day challenges. This next chorus is a scriptural emphasis on Galatians 5:22,
which speaks of a strong belief of being guided by the spirit:
I’ve found a new way of living,

I found a new life divine,
I’ve got the fruits of the spirit,
I’m abiding, abiding in the vine.
Abiding in the vine, abiding in the vine,
Love, joy, peace, hope,
He has made them mine.
I’ve found prosperity, power and victory,
Abiding, abiding in the vine. 53
Accordingly, the spirituality of Windrush Pentecostals embodied an approach

to life where their faith was a source of power, reflected by characteristics
described by Daniel Albrecht and Evan Howard in their detailed description of
Pentecostal Spirituality. 54 According to Albrecht and Howard, Pentecostal
spirituality adopts a set of beliefs, practices, sensibilities, and values. Beliefs
condition the Pentecostal’s view of God and their approach to the work of
God in their lives.55 Accordingly, they are clear about their purpose and mis-
sion. Albrecht and Howard assert that for the Pentecostal, some personal and
corporate practices serve as a vehicle for an abundant relationship with God.56
Practices, as habitual attitudes, predisposed one to notice or respond to the
spirit, which forms Pentecostal sensibilities.
Values guide what is essential and what to notice concerning experience.57
In addition to outlining beliefs, practices, sensibilities, and values of Pentecos-
tal spirituality, Albrecht and Howard also list some components of Pentecostal
spirituality as aids: Bible reading, praying, singing, worship, and giving.58 These
components are especially apparent in Black Pentecostal congregational wor-
ship, which enhances their faith experience. Pentecostal scholar Steven Jack Land
suggests that Pentecostal spirituality can be seen as a narrative that shows the
connection between revelation, history, and the belief in God’s kingdom.59 Like
Albrecht and Howard, Land explains that using songs and testimonies is key to
telling the faith story,60 which is relevant for reflecting on the rise of singing and
music in the worship experience of African Caribbean Pentecostal churches.
Windrush Pentecostal Spirituality of Survival

The social reality for Windrush Pentecostals was challenging, however, their
spirituality helped to keep their mind, body, and soul intact. Windrush Pente-
costals maintained a spirituality of survival to help cope with the day-to-day
challenges of life in hostile Britain, which helped them to ‘keep the faith’. One
of the first to explicitly comment on Black Pentecostal spirituality evident
mostly in congregational worship is Christian minister, author, and scholar
Joel Edwards (1951–2021). Edwards recognised that Windrush Pentecostals
collectively had a theology of survival. The survival mode was most noticeable
in congregational worship, whereby the hope of heaven made life in post-war
Britain endurable. There was daily racism, rejection, and oppression that
would dampen the human spirit, which Edwards captures well here:
This ‘survival theology’ had lodged itself deep within the heart of black
church worship, particularly in the United States and the Caribbean. It has
been the driving force behind the heavy emphasis on future salvation so
present in much of the worship. Songs, sermons and prayers about heaven
certainly provided a legitimate diversion from the toils of grinding poverty,
exploitation or educational disadvantage, but they did not act as an escape
from reality. Rather heaven made reality bearable.61
Accordingly, the singing repertoire in congregational worship led by the

Windrush generation was eschatological – future-orientated to release the
experience of pain. In historic Black Pentecostal worship, singing was for
ward-looking and typically expressed as highly rhythmic, energetic, emo
tional,62 and repetitive. The singing in congregational worship facilitated a
collective theology of trust and reliance on a greater source. A gospel hymn
that represents this well is another old-time Pentecostal favourite; we have an
anchor that keeps the soul:
Verse 1:
Will your anchor hold in the storms of life,
When the clouds unfold their wings of strife?
When the strong tides lift, and the cables strain,
Will your anchor drift, or firm remain?
Chorus
We have an anchor that keeps the soul,
Steadfast and sure like the billows roll;
Fasten to the rock which cannot move,
Grounded firm and deep in the saviour’s love!63
To help us reflect further on the motif of survival as an expression of spiri

tuality, a classic study by an early proponent of Black theology might be help
ful. African American Gayraud Wilmore (1921–2020) defined three dominant
motifs applicable to informing the development of Black Christianity shaped by
African descendants: survival, elevation, and liberation. In Black Religion and
Black Radicalism, 64 Wilmore believed that for African peoples, (focussing at
the time on Africans in America), Black religion played a significant role in
their survival. The relationship between faith and epistemological concerns has
been based on a need to survive as people. Thus, throughout history, the motive
for the private and public activities of Black churches has been for the benefit of
the community. The paradigm of survival denotes how religion was embraced to
help Africans feel alive. Some would argue that it kept them alive. The safe
keeping of mind, body, and soul is attributed to their faith.
Chronologically speaking, the first phase of Black religiosity in America was
during the 1850s, whereby a civilising process was required for respectability.
The motif of elevation was related to improved possibilities, whereby religion
was fundamental to uplifting self and community – a ladder to elevate through
education, moral, and cultural means. From the eighteenth to the twentieth
century, a strong theme of liberation emerged, whereby people of African des
cent demanded direct action for freedom. Liberation was a paradigm for free
dom where religion was beneficial for total transformation to combat racial
segregation and discrimination after emancipation.65 Wilmore acknowledges
that the three themes identified overlap, so it is not always possible to order
Black religiosity as fixed or linear. Thus, the paradigm has limitations.
Nevertheless, the motif of survival, elevation, and liberation is a potentially
helpful framework for considering the worldview of Windrush Pentecostals and
evaluate the development of the Black churches they founded, and the impact of
congregational worship on second-generation descendants. Of additional
importance is the worldview of second-generation descendants and their
approach to advancing their sacred music in wider British society. Whilst
making strides in reaching new places far beyond the imagination of the
founding generation of Black churches in the post-war years, a question about
the continuity or discontinuity of ‘the Windrush spirituality’ is important: have
second-generation Pentecostal descendants and participants of BBGM adopted
the same spirituality of survival as their forebears?
The Spirituality of Windrush Pentecostal Progenies

Earlier, Joel Edwards identified a theology of survival as an explicit expression
of Windrush Pentecostal spirituality.66 However, the motif of elevation rather
than survival might seem closer to the worldview of second-generation Pente
costals – Windrush Pentecostal progenies. First-generation Windrush Pentecos
tals adopted a ‘saints in exile’ worldview67 driven by the need for survival for
self and community in a hostile British society. However, based on the apparent
success of BBGM finding its way into ‘high’ places in recent years, Edwards
might be right when he suggests that a transition is taking place. To be specific,
there is an implicit historical triad of Black struggle, aspiration, and hope for
second-generation descendants BBGM singers and musicians.
Nevertheless, second-generation Pentecostal descendants – seem to be seeking
ways to to move beyond survival. Rather than ‘survive’, descendants seek to
thrive. Edwards asserts that children and young people raised in the post-war
Black churches have grown influenced by mainstream academia and profes
sional life, which has prejudiced their social and liturgical needs.68 As such,
rather than a spirituality of survival, second-generation Pentecostals are more
inclined to employ strategies for achieving individual success leading to long-
awaited commercial rewards for the singing and music they learnt and developed
in the Black church and would take beyond the church walls.
It is indeed beyond the scope of this chapter to effectively engage in an
exploration of the spirituality of second-generation Pentecostal descendants and
systematically compare their spirituality with their windrush forebears. None
theless, it is a precursor to a discussion elsewhere69 and an introductory fra
mework that I initiate here. Britain was a hostile place for Black newcomers,
demonstrated by societal attitude after World War II, which is well
documented. In the years since, there have been consistent reports of continued
discrimination and bias against Black lives in Britain; thus, to assume second-
generation Black Britons, including second-generation Pentecostals, contravene
the need to survive racist Britain would be an erroneous assumption.
Locating African Caribbean Religious Roots

To trace the African Caribbean religious roots of the Windrush generation and
their descendants, one must look to Africa. From the fifteenth century, the lives
of West Africans were cruelly disordered by the horrors of the transatlantic
slave trade that ripped them away from the continent and the world they knew
to be trafficked to a new world. Africans were enslaved and put to work to
create wealth for Europeans – a European system of brutality lasting some 400
years. If it is going to be possible to trace the religious roots of singing and
music in the lives of African Caribbean ancestors, understanding the historical
context of their social reality will be essential.
An excellent example of exploring an African religious past is the knowledge
gained so far about the origins of African American gospel music in North
America. As mentioned earlier, it has a long and well-documented history, and
it is widely accepted that African ancestors created the Spirituals during their
enslavement in America in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Well-
known Spirituals, such as Swing Low Sweet Chariot, Wade in the Water, and
Roll Jordan Roll endure in a large body of historic melodies that continue to be
widely celebrated for contributions to Black religious life and culture in Amer
ica.70 However, to understand the beginnings of the Spirituals, it is necessary to
look at the social reality of Africans in America, the role of religion, and the
efforts of enslavers to convert them to Western Christianity.71 Of relevance here
is the reality of a singing tradition that was created in the misery of slavery, and
the role of religion in assisting Africans to express their social reality whilst
enslaved. James Cone describes that situation like this:
The spirituals are historical songs which speak about the rupture of black
lives: they tell us about a people in the land of bondage, and what they did
to hold themselves together and to fight back. We are told that people of
Israel could not sing the Lord’s song in a strange land. But, for blacks, their
being depended upon a song. Through song they built new structures for
existence in an alien land.72
Also reflecting on the historicity of Spirituals, African American hymnologist

James Abbington describes them as deserving of historical, theological, and
cultural honour in the corporate liturgical life of the Black church in Amer
ica.73 As such, an impressive collection of popular and scholarly literature,
hymn books, and musical performances contribute to the continuous wide
spread appreciation for the Spirituals that mark an earlier period of the evo
lution of Black gospel music in America.74 Asserting the need to not to forget
the misery in which the Spirituals were birthed, Abbington affirms that the
Spirituals speak of the pain of African ancestors in America,75 which is also a
reminder that having a historical understanding of the roots of one’s musical
tradition can be a powerful affirmative source for contemporary musical
expression.76
Towards Preserving an African Caribbean Pentecostal Religious Legacy

This chapter has weighed heavily towards examining African Caribbean Pente
costal expressions of sacred music through a potted history of the rise of Black
Pentecostal churches in post-war Britain. The churches founded by Windrush
Pentecostals nurtured the singing and music of its second-generation descen
dants. Ancestral links to African origins were shaped in the Caribbean, which is
an area to explore elsewhere to uncover the complex past involving the fusion
of Euro-British, Euro-American, and African American influences in shaping
African Caribbean Pentecostal religious thought and music.77 The lack of
understanding presents what are currently unanswered questions. For example,
although there is some understanding of African religious musical78 and folk
songs79 in the Caribbean, what were the sacred songs of African ancestors
during their enslavement in the Caribbean? According to respected folklorist
Olive Lewin (1937–2013), whose life’s work includes recording anthologies of
old Jamaican folk songs, much of the evidence of African traditions of singing,
music, and dance of African ancestors in the Caribbean has been lost, mainly
because of an early disregard for African sensibilities by Europeans and Afro
Caribbeans.80 Thus, more research in this area is needed.
In the meantime, in this brief historical reflection that posits African Car
ibbean Pentecostalism as foundational to sacred music of second-generation
Pentecostals, I am advancing an argument that sees the faith life and liturgical
practices of Windrush Pentecostals (their forebears) as integral components to
include in the historiographies of BBGM. Liturgical practices of Windrush
Pentecostals include prayers, testimonies, sermons, music, and songs. Of rele
vance here, is the singing of old-time Pentecostal hymns, gospel songs, and
choruses essential to the vitality of African Caribbean congregational worship
during the post-war years. 81
Theomusicologist Jon Michael Spencer describes the repertoire of hymns and
songs expressed in Black congregational worship as Black hymnody.82 Close
examination of Black hymnody expressed in congregational worship reveals the
theology that guides a congregation’s spirituality and doctrinal beliefs.83 As
such, examining the hymnody of post-war African Caribbean Pentecostal con
gregational worship will be a window to the beliefs and concerns of Windrush
Pentecostals as they established churches as newcomers and navigated a hostile
British society. A primary challenge for research is that the singing repertoire
(hymnody) of African Caribbean Pentecostal congregational worship is pri
marily an oral tradition, and how orality shaped the early period of Black
church worship as foundational to BBGM is another necessary area to
explore. Some gospel hymns and songs are accessible in selected published
hymn books, with lyrics and scores of the melodies available.84 The lyrics of
old-time Pentecostal choruses however, are primarily retained in the collective
memory of congregants as repositors of the assortment of choruses. Observe,
for example, what happens when an old-time Pentecostal chorus is raised in a
worship service. Within moments, other congregants ‘catch on’ and sing
along. On those occasions, hymnbooks are not used; instead, orality enhances
extemporaneous singing of a previous age.
Without a doubt, capturing and preserving vestiges of old-time Pentecostal
congregational singing will require gathering, indexing, and analysing the large
body of songs and choruses of African Caribbean Pentecostal singing laying
dormant in memories, to preserve them as an heirloom of Black British Pente
costal descendants.85 The songs epitomise a major singing tradition informative
to Black Pentecostal congregations, however, has not attracted the attention of
the academy. In sum, the congregational singing repertoire of Windrush Pente
costals remains a primary source of an oral tradition yet to be adequately
explored. How orality shaped congregational singing in the post-war years, as
experienced by children and young people in the Pentecostal congregations, will
inform a significant part of the so far ‘untold’ story of BBGM. In the meantime,
as an inspiration to future researchers of African Caribbean Pentecostal con
gregational worship that fostered the growth of BBGM, there are helpful
American examples of how the hymnody of the assortment of African Amer
ican congregations are preserved in hymnbooks.86
Conclusion
Although BBGM has advanced in British society as a contemporary musical
art form, this chapter has sought to highlight the lack of societal interest in
its past. The charge of lacking interest is levelled at the variety of disciplines
in the academy, evident by the absence of a body of systematic studies
concerning the historical development of BBGM, particularly in religious and
music studies. Consequently, critical historical engagement is a task long overdue.
Knowledge about the rise of BBGM remains confined to the memories of
its pioneers and early participants. At least amongst the early participants of
BBGM, there is an understanding that the advent of BBGM is deeply rooted
in the rise of Black Pentecostal churches in Britain after World War II.
What is not sufficiently acknowledged, however, is the contribution of the
founding generation of Black Pentecostal churches in Britain that fostered sing
ing and music that would inspire the musical aspirations of Pentecostal
descendants.
This chapter has identified Windrush Pentecostals as a generation of
people who encouraged communal participation in congregational worship,
which nurtured the early beginnings of BBGM. It has shown how the life
experience and spirituality of its founders – African Caribbean men and
women (Windrush Pentecostals) coalesced with the rise of Black Pentecostal
churches, which became the birthplace of BBGM amongst African Car
ibbean Pentecostal descendants. Thus, BBGM was pioneered by second-
generation Pentecostal descendants (Windrush Pentecostal Progenies) who
owe much of their religious development to their Windrush Pentecostal
forbears who paved the way for the rise of BBGM. Probing the faith life
of the founding generation of Black Pentecostal churches in Britain is likely
to reveal the influence of Pentecostal spirituality. Windrush Pentecostals
believed they were pilgrims in exile ‘travelling through this pilgrim land.’87
Thus they had a Pentecostal spirituality of survival to help them confront
‘Babylonian Britain.’88 They sought ways to endure the hardship of the
unwelcoming society they encountered. Their faith helped them to endure
many difficult days. Their struggles were constant but with spiritual
strength, they overcame.
The spirituality of Windrush Pentecostals helped them to courageously pio
neer churches in a hostile country, and by building churches they safeguarded
the opportunity to share communal Pentecostal worship. The churches were a
vital source of empowerment, affirmation, and support for congregants and the
broader Black community.
During the post-war years, congregational worship in African Caribbean
Pentecostal congregations helped to maintain Pentecostal liturgical practices
and nurture the faith life of its congregants. My overriding assertion is that
the faith life of Windrush Pentecostals is a valuable resource for uncovering
details about the early beginnings of BBGM. When Windrush Pentecostals
pioneered churches, they laid a religious foundation for the spiritual growth
of their descendants. Thus, children and young people participated in con
gregational worship, where they had their own experience of learning and
sharing liturgical practices. Congregational worship was a fertile ground for
the growth of extemporal singing and music for all its congregants, includ
ing children and young people. Thus, children and young people learnt to
sing, play music, and participate liturgically, which taught them how to
participate and lead in congregational worship.
Although attention has been absent so far in the academy concerning the
historical development of BBGM, this chapter is an encouraging nod to future
researchers to have an intergenerational approach to examining the develop
ment of BBGM. Historical studies about the development of BBGM will fall
short if descriptions of the rise of Black Pentecostal churches and the actions of
their forbears were omitted. Thus, this chapter advocates for a serious examina
tion into the religious life and liturgical practices of Windrush Pentecostals to
bring to the fore historical specifics about their spirituality and theological per
spectives that inspired them to pioneer churches with resilience and dedication.
Further, if there is a continuity of Pentecostal spirituality in the faith life of Afri
can Caribbean Pentecostal descendants, what might we learn from examining the
faith life of BBGM singers and musicians?
Overall, this historical overview locates the early beginnings of BBGM in
African Caribbean congregational worship, where in the seminal years
descendants learnt to sing and play music. However, in addition to plotting the
social and religious realities of African Caribbean Pentecostal forebears of
BBGM, there are more fundamental questions: what role did religion play in
the conception of BBGM? How did religion shape it? How have faith beliefs
shaped BBGM? To what extent are the faith traditions of Windrush Pentecos
tals retained or remembered in the singing and music performances of second-
generation descendants of Pentecostalism? As BBGM practitioners seek to
advance their singing and music as a musical art form, what lessons might they
learn from Windrush Pentecostals about their early experience of pioneering
churches in a hostile society? Could lessons of a ‘Windrush Pentecostal past’
help the advancement of BBGM?
In sum, Windrush Pentecostals and the pioneers and early participants of
BBGM bear memories of a multifaceted past. It is a past that requires mining to
empower and encourage succeeding generations of Black gospel music. Specifi
cally, the experience of the African Caribbean Pentecostal men and women who
arrived in post-war Britain as migrants hold essential information that could be
helpful to a wider appreciation for the religious heritage of contemporary
BBGM.
Notes
1 The title of an album released by Black British gospel outfit Majestics Singers in
1985, https://themajesticsingers.carrd.co.
2 Mainstream television entertainment programmes such as Britain’s Got talent, the
BBC’s One Show and Songs of Praise are including BBGM singers and musicians.
3 For example, Premier radio has a designated Black gospel music channel where
BBGM and other global expressions of Black gospel music can be heard.
4 https://gmia.org.uk; https://www.earlygospel.com/styles-british-black-gospel/.
5 https://www.keepthefaith.co.uk/2023/07/21/premier-gospel-awards-celebrates-50-yea
rs-of-gospel-music-in-the-uk/.
6 For example, MOBO awards, StepFwd, Premier Gospel Awards, The African Gospel
Music and Media Awards (AGMMA), and GX Awards.
7 See for example individuals collectively celebrated in the Queen’s birthday honours list
in 2020. Names such as Karen Gibson, choir director for the Kingdom Choir received an
MBE; Gospel artist and radio broadcaster Muyiwa, MBE; singer Lurine Cato, MBE;
musician and choir director John Fisher, BEM; journalist Marcia Dixon, MBE; and
former Magazine editor Shirley McGreal, MBE. See https://www.gov.uk/government/
collections/birthday-honours-lists-2020 and Keep the Faith, issue 117, 8–10.
8 For instance, in May 2018 The Kingdom Choir sang at Prince Harry and Meghan
Markle’s wedding, and in May 2023 members of the Ascension Choir performed at
the Coronation of King Charles III.
9 See for example, how BBGM is included in the celebrated book that narrates the
history of Black gospel music in America: Viv Broughton, Black Gospel: An
Illustrated History of the Gospel Sound (Dorset: Blandford Press, 1985).
10 A repertoire of melodies created by African American ancestors during their time of
enslavement in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. See James Weldon Johnson
and Rosamond Johnson, The Books of American Negro Spirituals (Boston: Da Capo
Press, 1925; repr., 1969).
11 Dulcie Dixon McKenzie, Black Gospel Music in Britain: Reclaiming Its African
Caribbean Pentecostal Roots and Route (London: Bloomsbury, forthcoming).
12 Steve Alexander Smith, British Black Gospel: The Foundations of This Vibrant UK
Sound (London: Monarch Books, 2009); Isaac Odeniran, Jordan’s Demeanours:
Research into UK Black Gospel Music (Peterborough: Fast-Print Publishing, 2014).
13 BBGM is a glocal manifestation of a musical genre affected by its antecedental past,
place of birth, and global influences. See Steven Felix-Jager, Art Theory for a
Global Pluralistic Age: The Glocal Artist (Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan, 2020).
14 For a history of churches in the Caribbean, see Arthur Charles Dayfoot, The
Shaping of the West Indian Church (Jamaica: The Press University of the West
Indies, 1999).
15 For an explanation of Oneness beliefs and practices, see Gregory Boyd, Oneness
Pentecostals and the Trinity: A Worldwide Movement Assess by a Former Oneness
Pentecostal (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Book House, 1992). Holiness and
Pentecostals have in common a belief in the experience of spirit baptism. Holiness
emphasise sanctification, while Pentecostals emphasise power of the spirit and
glossolalia – speaking in tongues. For further explanation see Henry H. Knight and
Steven J. Land, ‘On Being a Witness: Worship and Holiness in the Wesleyan and
Pentecostal Traditions,’ in Liturgy and the Moral Self: Humanity at Full Stretch
before God, ed. E. Byron Anderson and Bruce T. Morill (Minnesota: The Liturgical
Press, 1998); Jonathan Black, ‘Sancta Sanctis: Pentecostals, Holiness, and the
Breaking of Bread,’ Journal of Pentecostal Theology 30, no. 1 (2021). Estrelda Y.
Alexander, Black Fire: One Hundred Years of African American Pentecostalism
(IVP Academic, 2011).
16 There is a growing understanding of congregational singing and music as perfor-
mance, however, it remains a contested idea in some gospel music circles. See
Marcell Silva Steuernagel, Church Music through the Lens of Performance
(London: Routledge, 2021), 1096; Alisha Lola Jones, Flaming? The Peculiar
Theoplitics of Fire and Desire in Black Male Gospel Performance (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2020); Monique Ingalls, Carolyn Landau, and Tom Wagner, eds.,
Christian Congregational Music: Performance, Identity and Experience (London:
Routledge, 2016).
17 Christopher Small, Musicking: The Meanings of Performing and Listening (Mid-
dletown, Connecticut: Wesleyan University Press, 1998).
18 See Babatunde Adedibu, Coat of Many Colours: The Origin, Growth, Distinctive-
ness and Contributions of Black Majority Churches to British Christianity (Glou-
cester: Wisdom Summit, 2012); Israel Olofinjana, Reverse in Ministry and Missions:
Africans in the Dark Continent of Europe – an Historical Study of African Chur-
ches in Europe (Milton Keynes: Author House, 2010).
19 Michael Wilkinson, ‘Worship: Embodying the Encounter with God,’ in The Rou-
tledge Handbook of Pentecostal Theology, ed. Wolfgang Vondey (London: Routle-
dge, 2020).
20 Peter Fryer, Staying Power: The History of Black People in Britain (London: Pluto
Press, 1984).
21 It is important to note that before 1948, there was a Black presence in Britain.
Many, for example, were ex-service men who fought in World War II. See David
Olusoga, Black and British: A Forgotten History (London: Macmillan, 2016); Fryer,
Staying Power: The History of Black People in Britain.
22 Fryer, Staying Power: The History of Black People in Britain.
23 Olusoga, Black and British, see illustrations 56, 57 and 59.
24 John L. Wilkinson, Church in Black and White (Edinburgh: Saint Andrew Press,
1993).
25 Io Smith and Wendy Green, An Ebony Cross: Being a Black Christian in Britain
Today (London: Marshall Pickering, 1989), p. 43.
26 Many of the churches are now celebrating six and seven decades of consistent pre-
sence in British society, serving social and spiritual needs of local communities.
27 For examples of recent engagement with the issue of racism in Britain’s historic
churches, see From Lament to Action, https://www.churchofengland.org/sites/defa
ult/files/2021-04/FromLamentToAction-report.pdf, Methodist church, Racial justice,
a task for all: https://www.methodist.org.uk/about-us/the-methodist-church/the-in
clusive-methodist-church/racial-justice/Black-history-month-2021/stories-for-Bla
ck-history-month-2021/racial-justice-a-task-for-all/; After the Flood: the Church,
Slavery and Reconciliation: https://www.mjr-uk.com/aftertheflood.html. D.A.
France-Williams, Ghost Ship: Institutional Racism and the Church of England
(London: SCM, 2020).
28 Keri Day, Azusa Reimagined: A Radical Vision of Religious and Democratic
Belonging (Stanford, California: Stanford University Press, 2022).
29 Roswith I. H. Gerloff, A Plea for British Black Theologies: The Black Church
Movement in Britain in Its Transatlantic Cultural and Theological Interaction, 2
vols., vol. 1 (New York: Peter Lang, 1992).
30 Joe Aldred, Respect: Understanding Caribbean British Christianity (Peterborough:
Epworth, 2005); Nicholas Myers, Bethel Begins: The Origins of Bethel United
Church of Jesus Christ Apostolic (London: Loveable Press, 2022).
31 Selwyn Arnold, From Scepticism to Hope: One Black-Led Church’s Response to
Social Responsibility, 2nd edition ed. (USA: Xulon Press, 2010), p. 33.
32 Arnold, From Scepticism to Hope. A similar narrative was shared by one of the
founding church pioneers I interviewed in Birmingham in 2005.
33 Dulcie A. Dixon McKenzie, “The Future of the Past: Forging a Historical Context
for Black Gospel Music as a Tradition Amongst African Caribbean Pentecostals in
Post-War Britain” (Unpublished PhD Thesis, Birmingham, 2014).
34 Smith and Green, An Ebony Cross: Being a Black Christian in Britain Today, 44.
35 Cheron Byfield, ‘Education and the Black Church,’ in The Black Church in the
Twenty-First Century, ed. Joe Aldred and Keno Ogbo (London: Darton, Longman,
and Todd, 2010).
36 Christopher A. Johnson, ‘Economics and the Black Church,’ in Aldred and Ogbo,
The Black Church in the Twenty-First Century, 194.
37 Johnson, ‘Economics and the Black Church.’
38 Again, in this chapter, Pentecostals is a collective term to include all Windrush
migrants of faith who arrived as or converted to the teachings of Apostolic, Holi-
ness, and Pentecostal traditions.
39 For a helpful description of an understanding of the significance of an ‘holiness attitude’
towards living as Black Pentecostals, see William C. Turner, The United Holy Church
of America: A Study in Black Holiness-Pentecostalism (NJ, USA: Gorgias Press, 2006).
40 Simon Chan, Spiritual Theology: A Systematic Study of the Christian Life (Downers
Grove, Illinois: IVP Academic, 1998), pp. 88–89.
41 Daniel Castelo, Pentecostalism as a Christian Mystical Tradition (Grand Rapids,
Michigan: William B. Eerdmans, 2017), pp. 162–63.
42 Keith Warrington, Pentecostal Theology: A Theology of Encounter (London: T &
T Clark, 2008), 210–11.
43 Author unknown (public domain).
44 Cheryl J. Sanders, Saints in Exile: The Holiness Pentecostal Experience in African
American Religion and Culture (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996).
45 Sanders, Saints in Exile, 3.
46 Richard S. Reddie, From an Acorn to an Oak Tree: The History of the New Tes-
tament Assembly (London: New Testament Assembly, 2012).
47 Old-time Pentecostal chorus: author unknown.
48 Roswith Gerloff, ‘The African Diaspora in the Caribbean and Europe from Pre-
Emancipation to the Present Day,’ in The Cambridge History of Christianity: World
Christianites 1914–2000, ed. Hugh McLeod (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2006), p. 234.
49 Author unknown.
50 Philip Sheldrake, Spirituality and History: Questions of Interpretation and
Method (London: SPCK, 1995); Karen E. Smith, Christian Spirituality (London:
SCM, 2007).
51 Sheldrake, Spirituality and History; Cole Arthur Riley, This Here Flesh: Spirituality,
Liberation, and the Stories That Make Us (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 2022);
Mookgo Solomon Kgatle, ‘Spirituality of Liberation in African Pentecostal Worship
and Its Implications for Black Theology,’ Black Theology 19, no. 2 (2021); Smith,
Christian Spirituality.
52 Gordon S. Wakefield, Groundwork of Christian Spirituality (Peterborough:
Epworth Press, 2001).
53 Author unknown (public domain)
54 Daniel E. Albrecht and Evan B. Howard, ‘Pentecostal Spirituality,’ in The Cam-
bridge Companion to Pentecostalism, ed. Cecil M. Robeck (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2014).
55 Albrecht and Howard, ‘Pentecostal Spirituality.’
59 Steven J. Land, Pentecostal Spirituality: A Passion for the Kingdom (Cleveland,
Tennessee: CPT Press, 2010).
60 Land, Pentecostal Spirituality, 1.
61 Joel Edwards, Let’s Praise Him Again (Eastbourne: Kingsway, 1992), 90–91.
62 Ashon T. Crawley, Black Pentecostal Breath: The Aesthetics of Possibility (New
York: Fordham University Press, 2017).
63 Gospel hymn, composer Priscilla Jane Owens, 1882, public domain.
64 Gayraud S. Wilmore, Pragmatic Spirituality: The Christian Faith through an
Africentric Lens (New York: New York University Press, 2004).
65 Wilmore, Pragmatic Spirituality.
66 Edwards, Let’s Praise Him Again.
67 Sanders, Saints in Exile.
68 Edwards, Let’s Praise Him Again, 75.
69 McKenzie, Black Gospel Music in Britain.
70 Gwendolin Sims Warren, Ev’ry Time I Feel the Spirit: 101 Best-Loved Psalms, Gospel
Hymns, and Spiritual Songs of the African-American Church (New York: Henry Holt
and Company, 1997); Moses Hogan, ed. The Oxford Book of Spirituals (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2002). Sandra Jean Graham, Spirituals and the Birth of a
Black Entertainment Industry (Urbana, Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2018).
71 Dena J. Epstein, Sinful Tunes and Spirituals: Black Folk Music to the Civil War
(Chicago: University of Illinois, 2003), 192.
72 James H. Cone, The Spirituals and the Blues: An Interpretation (New York: Orbis
Books, 1972; repr., 2003), 30.
73 James Abbington, ‘Music and Worship in Black Church Studies Curricula,’ in The
Black Church Studies Reader, eds. Alton P. Bollard III and Carol B. Duncan
(Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016), 102.
74 Wyatt Tee Walker, Somebody’s Calling My Name: Black Sacred Music and Social
Change (Valley Forge: Judson Press, 1979); Yolanda Y. Smith, Reclaiming the
Spirituals: New Possibilities for African American Christian Education (Cleveland:
The Pilgrim Press, 2004).
75 Arthur Jones, Wade in the Water: The Wisdom of the Spirituals (Maryknoll, New
York: Orbis Books, 1993).
76 Jones, Wade in the Water.
77 Dianne M. Stewart, Three Eyes for the Journey: African Dimensions of the Jamaican
Religious Experience (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005); Noel Leo Erskine,
Plantation Church: How African American Religion Was Born in Caribbean Slavery
(Oxford: OUP, 2014).
78 Joseph M. Murphy, Working the Spirit: Ceremonies of the African Diaspora
(Boston: Beacon Press, 1994).
79 See for example treasured booklets with musical scores and lyrics of popular folk
songs, work songs, and whaling songs in Olive Lewin, Forty Folk Songs of Jamaica
(Washington, DC: General Secretariat of the Organization of American States,
1973); Olive Lewin, Alle, Alle, Alle: 12 Jamaican Folk-Songs (OUP, 1977).
80 Lewin, Forty Folk Songs of Jamaica, 5–7.
81 For insightful ethnographic studies of Caribbean Pentecostal singing and gospel
music, see Melvin L. Butler, Island Gospel: Pentecostal Music and Identity in
Jamaica and the United States (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2019); Timothy
Rommen, ‘Mek Some Noise’: Gospel Music and the Ethics of Style in Trinidad
(London: University of California Press, 2007).
82 A term used effectively by Jon Michael Spencer, Black Hymnody: A Hymnological
History of the African-American Church (Knoxville: The University of Tennessee
Press, 1992).
83 Spencer, Black Hymnody.
84 Such as the publication of Redemption Songs, Church hymnals.
85 McKenzie, Black Gospel Music in Britain.
86 For example see the collection of Black sacred songs of African American hymnody:
James Abbington, ed. One Lord, One Faith, One Baptism: An African American
Ecumenical Hymnal (Chicago, Illinois: GIA, 2018). Cornelius Showell, ed. The
Pentecostal Heritage Hymnal (Lanham, MD: Seymour Press, 2021).
87 A line from the gospel hymn, ‘Blessed Jesus old my hand’.
88 A reference to Psalm 137 as a metaphor for this book, positing British society as a
hostile place like Babylon.
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Albrecht, Daniel E., and Evan B. Howard. ‘Pentecostal Spirituality.’ In The Cambridge
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Erskine, Noel Leo. Plantation Church: How African American Religion Was Born in
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2 ‘Gifts and Talents’
Sacred and Secular Musical Performance
at a Suburban British Pentecostal Church
Natalie Hyacinth
Introduction
The binary between what constitutes the sacred and the secular has long been
a prominent feature in debates concerning religious music. The recent global
growth of Pentecostal megachurches that, in large part, rely on secular music
styles as a central feature of congregational repertoire has brought once again
into sharp focus discussions on the meaning of the sacred and the secular
binary in contemporary, mission-driven churches. This chapter will examine
these long-running debates through the ideal of ‘gifts and talents,’ a Biblically
inspired view of human creativity and innovation practised at Ealing Christian
Centre (ECC), a west London suburban Black majority Pentecostal church.
Gifts and talents are a divine, spiritual practice through which ECC con-
gregants and worship team members utilise and perform their creative talents
for praise and worship, drawing from commercial, secular styles that are re-
imagined as ‘gifts’ from God. This chapter proposes that the ideal of gifts and
talents at ECC provides not only a scriptural and theological backdrop to
musical performance at the church but offers insight into the ways in which
contemporary secular styles become a central feature of Pentecostal worship
services. Musical talent and creativity at ECC thus act as a vehicle through
which congregants connect with the spiritual realm through worship as well as
intersect with the commercial music industry for modern, cutting-edge perfor-
mance styles and practices, thereby continuing the historical Pentecostal cul-
tural tradition of the blurring of sacred and secular boundaries. To conclude, I
suggest that Ealing Christian Centre utilises its music as part of its missionis-
ing, expansion philosophy, but also as a way to bridge sacred and secular
worlds, creating a sacred sonic space within what I’ve termed a ‘secular shell.’
History/Context of ECC
ECC is on Northfields Avenue in West Ealing, situated across from Northfields
underground station on the Piccadilly line. Like many parts of Ealing, ECC is
located within a socially mixed area, with both working- and middle-class
households residing in what has become a desirable locale of suburban
‘Gifts and Talents’ 45
London. ECC’s building is a former cinema called the Avenue that opened in
1932. The building became the Top Hat club for a few years before being
purchased by ECC in 1994, opening officially as Ealing Christian Centre in
1996. ECC continues the Pentecostal tradition of making the ordinary sacred
by the transformation of what was once a secular building into a sacred wor-
ship space. ECC’s re-appropriation of the building affirms Kong’s call to
highlight and study different sites of religious practice beyond the ‘officially
sacred’.1 Black majority Pentecostal churches in London have emerged in
unlikely spaces, indeed beyond what could be described as officially sacred
spaces, reflecting a recent trend of church building to meet the needs of grow-
ing and diverse urban congregations. Kong further notes that religious prac-
tices do not operate in a void, and the spaces they inhabit can alter and even
determine the meaning of their surroundings, where ‘sacred space is ordinary
place, virtually made extraordinary.’2 One such example of this by ECC is the
adaption of a large cavity on the purpose-built stage that previously accom-
modated the Crompton Organ, brought up to the stage via a hydraulic lift
during cine-shows, now converted to a large baptismal pool, a secular space or
shell made extraordinary. Holloway has similarly proposed the notion of the
‘everyday sacred’ to challenge the idea that the ‘everyday always implies the
profane, by revealing practices that seek to (re)enchant the “routine” spaces
and times in and through which we make our lives.’3 The ways in which ECC
approaches their once secular church building as a place with the potential to
be transformed and adapted to a sacred space mirrors its explorative and open
approach to music.
ECC is part of the Elim movement that has its seeds in Ireland at the turn of
the twentieth century. Since the early 1990s, Elim’s numbers have increased
largely due to migration to the UK from regions of Africa, Asia and the Car-
ibbean, with some of its churches, including ECC, typifying what is commonly
referred to as a ‘Black Majority’ church. Much scholarly work has been
undertaken on Black Majority churches in inner cities, with the term com-
monly defined as a place of worship that comprises at least 80% Black wor-
shippers.4 The broader Elim movement, however, with its roots in the
Pentecostal and revivalist movements in early nineteenth-century Britain, is not
a historical Black-founded or led denomination such as NTCG or COGIC. For
most of its existence, the Elim Pentecostal movement was a predominantly
White British church.5 Since the early 1990s, however, Elim’s numbers have
increased, largely due to migration to the UK from regions of Africa, Asia and
the Caribbean. This makes ECC a particular and interesting case study in the
field of ‘Black Majority’ religious research due to the marked distinction
between its congregational demographic and its leadership makeup, adding
further complexity to an already contested term. Other features that are com-
monly used to describe Black Majority churches are charismatic worship styles
that feature speaking in tongues, and their typically being situated in the inner
cities in often disused, repurposed industrial buildings. ECC today, at first
glance, could be described as a ‘Black Majority’ church, with a large
46 Natalie Hyacinth
proportion of its worshippers being of African and Caribbean descent. ECC is
also a particular case study as a ‘Black Majority’ church as its share of both
African and Caribbean worshippers is fairly mixed, with many Black Majority
churches commonly being a majority of one Black ethnicity over another. In a
discussion with Pastor Sam, ECC’s Music and Worship Director (who is white
British), about the cultural diversity of the church, he said that ECC is:
one of the truly ethnic diverse churches because…there are a lot of African
churches that are mainly Nigerian or mainly Ghanaian… I’d say there are
more churches like that now…in the UK as opposed to us, whereby
there’d still be a natural [ethnic] divide. At ECC it’s very eclectic.6
Though ECC’s congregation and worship team is made up of mostly African and
Caribbean heritage singers and musicians, the church prominently celebrates its
diversity with the building’s foyer displaying over 100 flags representing the dif-
ferent countries of its worshipers and with cultural events such as its annual
‘Caribbean,’ ‘African,’ ‘European’ and ‘Asian’ evenings intended to celebrate the
cultural diversity of the congregation. ECC also caters to a Japanese and a Polish
language church with the main English language congregation a mixture of
worshipers from Africa and the Caribbean, as well as from Eastern Europe, Asia
and the UK. Like other evangelical churches, ECC promotes an internationalist
outlook, with regular evangelical missions to Japan, the Philippines and
Nigeria an important part of its outreach ethos. ECC’s unique suburban loca-
tion means that it is well connected to a diverse, geographically dispersed group of
congregants, reflecting the recent movement in the UK of ethnic minorities from
the inner cities to the suburban outskirts of major cities. ECC’s international roots
also support the idea of Pentecostalism’s rapid expansion as largely attributed to
the shift of Christianity from the Global North to the Global South,7 significantly
expanding into parts of Africa and Asia. Pentecostal churches have grown in
places in which migrants from the Global South have settled, particularly in
the metropolitan cities of Western Europe, Australia and North America. This
phenomenon has been described as a ‘reverse mission’ or ‘reverse proselytiza-
tion’8 in which some Pentecostal Christians from the Global South view
Europe as the new ‘Dark Continent,’ a place in which secular, commercially
driven societies have been stripped of all religious sentiment.9 I encountered
similar sentiments at ECC, where an important part of the church’s mission
was preaching to what they viewed as a secular, middle-class neighbourhood
and city. One worshipper described Ealing and London as having a ‘canopy of
secularism’ overshadowing it and perceived ECC’s presence as a spiritual
necessity in an area they perceived as deplete of religious and spiritual value.
Garbin asserts that new forms of Pentecostal evangelical Christianity are con-
nected to a ‘globalised and ambitious vision of Christendom’ in which Christian
speakers from various parts of the world regularly visit, creating the sense of a
‘world mission.’10 This reflects one of the core beliefs of Pentecostalism in which
the ‘world is their parish’11 rather than a specific surrounding locale. ECC’s
music, lively, ambitious and ecstatic, somewhat buttresses its particular geo-
graphical placement in a quiet, leafy suburban locale. The African American-
influenced charismatic Gospel music that seeps out of the church every Sunday
contrasts with a quiet and predominantly white suburban background. The
dynamics of suburban religious places such as ECC have been understudied,
while Black music in the suburbs has been similarly under-researched within
academic literature. This means that ECC serves as an interesting case study on
the intersections between music, place and identity, whilst being an example of
the ways in which modern urban religious communities are finding spiritual
homes in unlikely locations. Recent literature in the small but growing field of
geographies of religion has similarly pointed towards an emergent suburban
multicultural faith that reconfigures the common conception of the suburbs as a
mono-cultural, homogeneous, secular city space. The term ‘ethnoburb’, popu-
larised by Li to describe the phenomenon of Asian and Chinese suburban settle-
ment in Los Angeles, points to a turn in the ways in which suburbs are theorised
and studied as well as a turn to challenge and complicate classic theories of urban
geography.12 Research around the changing nature of the city, particularly that
of the suburbs in terms of ethnic and religious diversity, demonstrate the multi-
faceted nature of contemporary metropolitan migration and subsequent ethnic
demographics. Recently Tyler has written about the ways in which the grow-
ing diversity of suburban locales has uncovered a ‘suburban paradox’ in which
the celebratory notion of multicultural urban conviviality rubs against the
reality of everyday racism in urban and suburban cityscapes.13 ECC, aware of
their distinct geographical location, view their music as a way to evangelise
and bring local outsiders to the church. Speaking to Sharon, a singer in the
Worship Team, noted that there was a ‘veil of secularity’ in the area which
could be pierced through with the music of the church. The lively and char-
ismatic nature of ECC music each week is viewed as a way to draw people from
the surrounding locale to the church, to provide animated, Gospel-inspired spirit
and praise to a leafy, quiet suburban locale. ECC’s music also occasionally spills
outside the church and into local public spaces. For example, each Christmas,
the ECC Worship Team lead Christmas carol singing at Ealing Broadway
Shopping Centre in the centre of the town. This public display of cheery
sacred song and worship is one example that supports Dwyer, Gilbert &
Shah’s critique of the ‘implicit acceptance of the inevitability of secularisa-
tion’ in discourse around the suburbs.14 Similarly, Holloway inquires, ‘in a
disenchanted world of secular pressures and processes, where and when do the
spiritual and the religious appear?’15 ECC aims to show that despite the supposed
secularity of the suburbs, the spiritual and the spectacular can be found within the
creative, musical practices of religious communities.
Music in Weekly Worship at ECC

ECC’s weekly worship music has been shaped and influenced by various his-
torical and contemporary movements. Azuza Street church’s early influential
48 Natalie Hyacinth
worship practices that emphasised freedom of expression and freedom from
ritualised worship are demonstrated in ECC’s focus on expressive, spontaneous
forms of worship. African American Gospel music is adopted by ECC, not
only in the singing of Gospel songs, but also in looking to the African Amer-
ican church for their characteristically energetic performance styles. A number
of the singers in the ECC Worship Team are also members of the London
Community Gospel Choir, demonstrating that ECC has connections to locally
made, homegrown Gospel music. ECC also mirrors Gospel music’s history of
transforming eighteenth-century hymns into modern pop R&B style rhythms.
ECC likewise displays characteristics of a contemporary megachurch, having
more in common with Hillsong, an Australian megachurch, than just its sub-
urban location. Like Hillsong, ECC’s worship practices are centred on a
‘Worship Team,’ a formalised music structure within the church comprising a
number of professional musicians. Pastor Sam Blake is ECC’s ‘Music and
Worship Director’, a full-time member of ECC staff, and regularly leads
Sunday worship. He is a professionally trained vocalist and keyboardist,
having studied music and composition at university. Jonathan is ECC’s
‘Assistant Music Director’ and manages ECC’s in-house music studio in which
he produces Christian music as part of a Christian music group, Kingdom
Collective, in the styles of popular music such as hip hop, R&B and soul.
The influence of Hillsong can also be felt at ECC in the church’s structured
worship format that relies on multimedia effects to create a lively atmosphere
to worship. At one ECC rehearsal, the sound engineer called out from the
sound booth, ‘I was at Hillsong this morning and you sound much better than
them!’, demonstrating the shared worship practices between Hillsong and
ECC. Abraham notes that Hillsong ‘engages with and even seeks to exceed the
secular culture industry for “excellence” in pop culture production,’16 mirror-
ing ECC’s ideals of ‘excellence’ that will be discussed in a following section.
Similar to Hillsong’s commercial music label, Hillsong Music, Elim has its own
international commercial music label, Elim Sound, based in Walvern, England.
Elim celebrated its centenary in 2015, marking this with the Elim 100 album
that topped the Christian iTunes music charts. Krause posits that Pentecostals
believe that the Holy Spirit enables Christians to perceive themselves ‘as not
being limited by the local culture of her place and having the competence to
move freely between different cultural and linguistic contexts.’17 This can be
seen in ECC’s internationalist approach to music in which musicians and
artists from the church organise music-centred mission trips abroad as part of
their evangelising strategy.
However, one of the core tenets of ECC’s spiritual outlook and outreach is
the worship and praise that takes place each week at Sunday service. ECC has
two English language services on a Sunday, with the Polish and Japanese
church meeting at other times on the day and during the week. As noted
above, ECC’s Worship Team is modelled in various ways on the Hillsong
Pentecostal megachurch worship structure, with a charismatic worship leader
leading praise and worship, singers and instrumentalists providing the music
and a large projector screen displaying song lyrics. The ECC Worship Team
band also mirrors the make up of a secular R&B or rock band, with a
drummer, guitar and bassist, keyboardist, lead vocalist and singers. ECC
often include other instruments in worship, such as percussive drums, sax
ophones and violins. As part of ECC’s ethos of ‘gifts and talents,’ worshippers
are invited to showcase their musical talents and become a part of the Wor
ship Team. This means that each week there are often additions to the stan
dard Worship Team structure, with new faces from the congregation
displaying their musical abilities. The worship section of a two-hour Sunday
service at ECC is typically around 35–40 minutes. Songs are performed from
the Elim Sound label, as well as traditional Gospel, Christian songs that are
commonly sung in Pentecostal churches, such as ‘Joy to the World.’ Muir
discusses the ‘Blackenizing’ of worship music at Black Majority churches,
noting that music at these churches often privileges African American Gospel
sounds over, for example, West African sounds, suggesting what Muir calls a
‘hierarchy of blackness.’18 At ECC, worship is influenced by African American
Gospel worship styles, as well as modern Contemporary Christian Music. As
noted above, ECC celebrates its multicultural diversity, which is reflected in
the music. West African afrobeat sounds, Caribbean reggae rhythms and Latin
American-inspired music are at various times incorporated into ECC worship.
Though ECC’s formal musical structure does not differ greatly from the pop,
rock and R&B type of Christian music heard at many contemporary Pente
costal churches today, inflexions of music from the Global South, reflecting
the diversity of the congregation, can be heard at times during services and the
numerous social events ECC organise at the church. This further complicates
a characterisation of ECC as a Black Majority church, with its music provid
ing an example of the ways in which the church attempts to bridge cultural
and social divides/differences in a multicultural city.
The feeling of Sunday worship at ECC is ecstatic, lively and communal.
Pastor Sam leads a rapt and engaged congregation across a range of both
upbeat and fast-paced songs, as well as slower, more melancholy songs, inviting
the congregation to praise God in worship with him. ECC worshippers are
encouraged to rise to their feet and to express their praise through singing,
clapping and stomping of the feet. An ECC service is interactive, with Pastor
Sam and the Worship Team often initiating call and response patterns from the
congregation. Outward, visible emotion and spontaneous singing, chanting and
dancing are viewed as a sign of God’s spirit working through the congregation.
The next section begins with a description of one of ECC’s most ecstatic wor
ship nights, their annual New Year’s Eve service.
Sacred/Secular binary in Pentecostal music

It is 10.30pm and the mood at Ealing Christian Centre is ecstatic. On stage, the
Worship Team are singing ‘Joy To The World’, a fast tempo pop/R&B style
reproduction of the eighteenth-century classic Isaac Watts hymn. There are 14
50 Natalie Hyacinth
singers on stage energetically clapping to the beat with both hands and stepping
from left to right as they sing spiritedly into their microphones. The auditorium
is packed from top to bottom. I estimate there to be approximately 700–800
worshippers present. Most of the congregation are on their feet, mirroring the
Worship Team by singing, dancing and clapping along to the music. Below the
stage, groups of children and young members of the church are waving balloons
and flags, singing excitedly and displaying their impressive dancing skills. On
stage behind the Worship Team, the words ‘THE KING IS COMING’ flashes in
bright fluorescent lights. Further sparkling lights have been draped from the
stage to the ceiling of the auditorium especially for the evening to add to the cele-
bratory, festive atmosphere. As the song draws to an end, Pastor Sam, the church’s
Musical Director, announces that we will play a game before the next set of
worship songs, leading up to the New Year countdown. As the Worship Team
leave the stage, Jenae, one of the hosts of the evening, enters and calls into her
microphone, ‘Let’s give God some applause!’ The congregation loudly clap and
cheer in unison, slowly taking their seats. Jenae explains that we will be play-
ing a musical guessing game in which a short clip of a song will play that the
congregation must guess. She splits the auditorium into sections, with the top,
bottom left and bottom right forming competing teams in the game. The first
section of the auditorium to guess the song, wins. The congregation erupts into
excitement as the first few seconds of sound plays over the auditorium’s
speakers, as most, including myself, immediately recognise the song. It is
Lauryn Hill’s popular 1998 R&B/Rap song, ‘Doo Wop (That Thing)’. Wor-
shippers in each section of the auditorium stand up, dance and sing along to
the song as it plays on for a minute or so. The next song is ‘Jammin’ by Bob
Marley, immediately recognisable to the congregation from the distinctive
Reggae guitar stroke intro. The following songs continue the selection of pop-
ular R&B, Hip Hop and Reggae songs, each excitedly guessed by the con-
gregation. As the game comes to a close, Pastor Sam shouts, ‘Praise the Lord!!’.
The Worship Team enter the stage, ready to sing the next set of worship songs
to take us into the New Year.
Ealing Christian Centre New Year’s Eve Celebration Fieldnote, Thursday 31st
December 2015
The above fieldnote hopes to demonstrate the typically lively and interactive
nature of worship at ECC, one that draws from African American style Gospel
singing and Contemporary Christian Music worship styles that places impor-
tance on music, congregational participation and embodied, affective worship
in accessing the divine. Importantly the fieldnote also demonstrates the use of
secular music by the church, revealing a dynamic blurring of sacred/secular
boundaries. The fieldnote above describes the fun and humorous use of secular
music in a congregational guessing game at a ECC New Year’s Eve service. In
some ways, this is not representative of the ways in which ECC typically
incorporates secular music into worship services. Secular music is often more
explicitly played and performed, as described in the fieldnote above, in special
services and social events, such as ECC’s African or Caribbean evenings. At a
Sunday worship service, however, worship more closely follows the pop, rock
and R&B sounds and songs of Contemporary Christian Music. The con-
gregational enthusiasm for the secular songs played at ECC’s New Year’s Eve
service perhaps displays a shared cultural paradigm for a church whose con-
gregation has a large Black heritage demographic, a popular culture rooted in
African American and Caribbean pop music repertoires. Though as the
demographics of London’s Black community change, along with its music that
reflects the city’s growing West African presence, ECC will move with the
times, as the below example of ECC using Stormzy’s ‘Blinded By Your Grace’
demonstrates. In an interview with Pastor Richard, he discussed the historical
precedent of secular music in Pentecostalism, explaining ECC’s approach to
adopting popular music styles in its music. He said:
…this is an argument [of secular music use in church] that has gone back
for generations. If you go back 300 to 400 years, in the church people only
ever sang the Psalms, and then when we had the Great Awakening in the
eighteenth century; Charles and John Wesley and George Whitefield,
where tens of thousands of people were coming to Christ. From all walks
of society, from coal miners up to anybody. There was a great outpouring
of new music and Charles Wesley is particularly known for his hymns…he
used music, which was popular music, the pop music of the day…People
thought it was outrageous; ‘How can you use them?’ and yet today people
happily sing them as hymns…maybe not realising the origins…I think
that’s to do with generations and tastes in music. So different kinds of
music will inspire different kinds of people, some people like the quiet,
meditative kind…others prefer the more free kind of music, but I think it
is really to do with different generations, different tastes.19
ECC then can be placed within a continuum of long-running, historical

debates around the appropriate use of secular music and commercial influence
in Christian worship. Since the emergence of contemporary evangelical Chris-
tian music worship practices in the late twentieth century that typically incor-
porate popular, secular influences, various critiques of this worship practice
have been made from both within and outside the church. Academic studies
have pointed to the ways that contemporary evangelical worship styles reflect
modes of the capitalist culture industry that, for example, emphasise the spec-
tacular over theology and tradition, and the self over community.20 Con-
temporary evangelical ‘megachurches’ that characteristically employ large
stadium-like atmospherics, utilising a heady mixture of lighting, effects and
multimedia in their services, have been variously critiqued for their seemingly
neoliberal tendencies in their encouragement of Christian artists to aspire to
commercial, secular music success,21 the way in which the music reflects a
prosperity, self-improvement gospel22 and the question of inauthenticity in
staged evangelical musical performances.23 Yet, despite critiques of con-
temporary Christian megachurches’ worship styles, ECC explicitly draws upon
them. ECC does not view the inclusion of secular music forms in their worship
52 Natalie Hyacinth
practices or commercial success as signs of spiritual decline. On the contrary,
ECC believe that displaying their musical ‘gifts’ by utilising secular music and
gaining success in the commercial world is, in fact, a sign of God’s power
working positively in their lives rather than a sign of inauthenticity or negative
secular influence. Thus, this chapter will explore two ways in which ECC
reflects Pentecostalism’s tradition of being responsive to the times, and how in
doing so, a blurring of sacred and secular boundaries occurs.
‘Gifts and Talents’: Musical Creativity as a Spiritually Divine Gift

ECC’s theology follows core Pentecostal beliefs and traditions: centring the
role of the Holy Spirit, authority of the Bible, mission and conversion.24 The
centrality of the Holy Spirit in ECC’s worship practices reflects the Pentecostal
ideal of the ‘autonomous, believing individual’25 that embodies belief in indi-
vidual, emotive and often ecstatic approaches. At ECC, the individual wor-
shipper is encouraged to embrace the personal and intimate experience of the
Holy Spirit for themselves through worship, reflecting Pentecostalism’s concern
with the ‘experience of the working of the Holy Spirit and the practice of
spiritual gifts.’26 This moves the focus away from theology and doctrine to an
experiential, emotive focussed nature of worship. Akin, an Elder at ECC, said,
‘for us it is not about religion, it is about a relationship.’27 Music is an
important part of contemporary Pentecostalism’s experientially focussed wor-
ship services and is a central part of ECC’s worship ethos. Music is particu-
larly valued and central to ECC’s worship theology as it is viewed as
facilitating a direct connection with the Holy Spirit. Pastor Richard calls music
a ‘spiritual medium’ that worshippers could utilise to connect intimately and
emotionally with God. He said:
We can’t see God, we can’t touch him, we can’t relate to him in that way.
But one of our expressions of worship and love to God is through music
and the words of the music.28
Music at ECC was often articulated through the particular concept of ‘Gifts
and Talents,’ a term I frequently came across in discussions about music.
When asking singers and musicians why they played music at ECC, they often
replied that their musical ability was a ‘gift’ from God and that the presence of
‘Gifts and Talents’ in individuals was to be applauded and cherished. The
notion of ‘Gifts and Talents’ is connected to the Pentecostal idea of the ‘gifts
of the Holy Spirit,’ which is described in the New Testament as ‘charisma,’29
where the term ‘charismatic’ Christianity originates. In early twentieth-century
Pentecostalism, influenced by the Azusa Street Church, the gift of speaking in
tongues eventually led to singing in tongues,30 making singing an embodied
and ecstatic expression. The musical component of a Pentecostal service, often
referred to as ‘Praise and Worship,’ became the moment in which worshippers
were invited to express themselves to ‘exercise gifts of the Spirit,’31 to sing,
dance, wail and clap in whichever expressive manner they chose. Modern-day
Pentecostal churches view gifts of the Spirit through mostly musical terms,
focussing less on speaking in tongues, and consider music as a central tool to
inviting the Holy Spirit to appear. This means that music is viewed as more
than just a creative ability, but also as a spiritually imbued ‘gift’ from God.
Myrick notes that within Pentecostalism, ‘theologically, music is an integral
means of summoning or communing with the presence of the Holy Spirit.’32
Thus, the idea of musicality as a divinely inspired ‘gift of the Spirit’ impacts
the way music is exploratively conceived at ECC as well as the ways in which
the idea of gift supports ECC’s flexible approach to the appropriation of
secular music in worship services.
The idea of musical ability as a divinely inspired gift supports ECC’s liberal
approach to the incorporation of secular musical genres into worship music.
As musical expression was viewed as a divinely inspired gift, it was not viewed
as inherently wrong or un-Godly. Jessica, an ECC Worship Team singer, for
example, said:
God is all. Any gifts that we have is from him so how can I dismiss a rap
gift because it’s not the standard church gifting…how can I dismiss spoken
word? How can I dismiss you, whatever artistry it is?33
Various ECC singers and musicians echoed Jessica’s above thoughts and
viewed music as innately divine that had become corrupted by the earthly
domain. For example, in a discussion with Sharon after an ECC Sunday ser-
vice, she said that contemporary secular music was a ‘perversion of music’ and
that the ‘beats and dancing’ in clubs was a misrepresentation of ‘real’ music.
She said that ‘music belongs up there,’ but that it has been brought down
‘here’ by Satan, used by him for ill. Secular music on the whole, therefore, was
also viewed as a gift that was innately divine, but that was led astray by
worldly, un-Godly forces. Jessica, for example, said that secular music talent
was evidence of ‘different gifting, but the same spirit.’34 It was thought that the
sacred could be located in secular music, and that, like a gift, it simply needed
to be drawn out and nurtured in the right, Godly contexts. Several singers and
musicians discussed pulling music from the secular domain back into the
sacred. For example, Pastor Sam said:
…if we believe that God has redeemed us…[those] who were secular and
made us sacred, from sinful to being saintly, I don’t see any reason why if
that’s in his nature, his character, why he wouldn’t do that with music.35
Secular music, therefore, instead of being viewed as un-Godly, was viewed as

something that could be redeemed, made ‘clean’ and that therefore could be
made applicable to the church. The processes of sacralisation and de-sacralisa-
tion of music and culture within the Christian faith have a long history. Uses of
modern, secular music and sounds in church services have continuously been
54 Natalie Hyacinth
met with opposition, derision and suspicion. Vega notes that evangelicals, in
particular, have a ‘history of perceiving themselves as using the forms, but not
the substance, of popular culture in order to spread their message of salva-
tion.’36 What Vega terms ‘popular-secular music’ is an attempt to understand
the ways in which Christian churches adopt secular music for spiritual use,
democratising access to the sacred. The creative appropriation of secular music
is, in some ways, a defining part of ECC’s musical identity, one which singers
and musicians articulated and perceived of in different ways. For example,
Jonathan’s approach to ECC using secular music was centred on the intention
of the music, saying that secular music itself was not the problem, but the way
in which it is used, that it can be used to ‘bless someone, or they can use it to
degrade or demoralise someone.’37 Similarly, Pastor Sam said that the use of
secular music and instruments was about the ‘heart’ rather than their perceived
worldly connotations. He said:
You could have a guitar that is played in the club and then on a Sunday it
can be played in church. It’s not the guitar, it would be the person that is
playing it.38
Singers and musicians frequently observed that lyrics would need to be chan-
ged in order for secular music to become appropriate to be used in church.
However, sometimes, whole and un-adapted secular songs were used in
church. For example, for one Sunday service, Stormzy’s ‘Blinded By Your
Grace’39 was sung by ECC’s Youth Worship Team. Stormzy is a young grime/
hip hop artist from London who professes to have a Christian faith, while also
rapping about perceived worldly ideals. About the particular inclusion of this
grime/hip hop song into a Sunday service, Pastor Sam said:
…with the Stormzy song…you go through those lyrics, there’s nothing

wrong with them, in fact they’re amazing. Does that mean we are
encouraging all of our people to go and listen to Stormzy? No, we’re not.
Because if you listen to the other stuff and even if you look at the lifestyle
that he [Stormzy] leads, they may see a contradiction. But at the same
time… there’s a real connection there with that song, and I actually told
our young people, if you don’t do it then the Worship Team is doing it
soon!40
Pastor Sam went on to note that the song carried within it a ‘gospel message’
that had connected with many young people. In this way, many singers and
musicians viewed secular music as having the power to be both unintentionally
holy, as well as containing the potential to be profane. However, it was ECC’s
view of secular music being a potentially effective evangelical tool that gave it
its greatest perceived power, value and importance within its use in the church.
The following section describes the way in which the ideal of ‘excellence’
within music making at ECC was viewed as part of one’s gift, something to be
taken seriously as not only an evangelising tool, but as a way to praise God’s
own excellence.
‘Excellence’ and Creativity at Ealing Christian Centre
At ECC, music is viewed as an effective way to evangelise and to connect, in
particular, with young people. Like many contemporary Pentecostal churches,
ECC views making the church relevant to people as a leading priority in its
outreach ethos. One of the ways this was achieved was to use secular music
and creative modes of expression that could be adapted to the church. For
example, Pastor Sam said:
We’re meant to try to reach out to every group…if there’s a group of

people that are listening to poetry and we’re not reaching them, we need
to write Christian poetry to engage with what grabs their attention and
invite them.41
This meant an engagement and relationship with the secular world, one in
which the church responds to and adapts to the creative expressions and styles
that are of the times. Race does not explicitly feature in ECC’s outreach ethos
and engagement with the secular world. Though the majority of the secular
music that ECC adapts, utilises and is inspired by is drawn from Black genres
and styles of creative expression, ECC promote an internationalist outlook in
their engagement with the world, adapting to the needs of each community
they come into contact with. For example, the ECC Japanese church worship
music sounds more akin to a typical Christian contemporary church such as
Hillsong. ECC’s main worship service on a Sunday, however, filled with many
Black worshippers, follows a little more closely the African American gospel
tradition. ECC’s outreach approach, therefore, relates to how closely secular
music and culture will resonate with the congregation and community.
As Pastor Sam noted above, talking about Stormzy’s song ‘Blinded By Your
Grace,’ ECC singers and musicians often talked about secular music with
admiration and respect, despite acknowledging some of their un-Godly refer-
ences. Singers and musicians talked about the skilled artistry that had devel-
oped in the secular music world not only as a ‘gift,’ but also as inspiration for
their own musicality. Various singers and musicians noted that if they were to
use music to evangelise, they must match the artistry, skill and professionalism
of the secular music world. This was often articulated as ‘excellence’ and
compared to themes found in the Bible. George, a keyboardist and singer in the
Worship Team and one-third of ECC-based music group Kingdom Collective,
for example, observed that matching secular and professional standards in music
was simply mirroring Christ’s example in being excellent in everything he did.
He said:
…if you look at Jesus…what he stood for was excellence…so we look to

Christ to guide us musically and to give us the ideas…we look to secular
56 Natalie Hyacinth
music and we reference. We listen to what’s out there at the moment and
what’s really popular. What’s really exciting people at the moment, whe-
ther it’s negative or not. That’s what we look at and what we try and
do is to create something, not similar but we try…for example, there
are different things you can reference in music.42
This meant taking one’s gifting seriously as a skill and art form. Accordingly,
ECC encouraged worshippers to take music lessons from an early age, and
several of the ECC Worship Team had professional music qualifications. ECC
viewed its music as needing to reflect the glory of God, which could only be
done if the musical standard was taken seriously. For example, Cluny says that
at ECC
… there’s a culture of excellence. There’s a culture of, if you’re doing

something, you’re doing it well. Especially as we are doing it for the Lord.
It’s not because we are in a church that we can’t be professional. And the
Bible says as well that David…was anointed and he was skilfully playing
his instrument. So it’s not just spirituality, it’s also the skill.43
This necessity for skill meant that performing and creating God-given music
for ECC singers and musicians could be extended and advanced upon outside
of the church. Commercial or secular success that may be derived from musical
gifts was not viewed in a negative light. Instead, success through music, so
long as it did not promote unscriptural practices (at ECC this mostly referred
to drinking, drugs or sex before marriage), was viewed as further proof that
God had given the individual a musical gift for a divine reason and that they
were thus blessed with any commercial benefits or accomplishments that may
come from it. ECC’s worship services reflect this ideal, as the congregation are
routinely encouraged to display their talents in church events and shows.
Another interpretation of ECC’s willingness to adapt secular music for sacred
use could be the desire to keep congregants from entering the secular enter-
tainment world. If ECC can provide equivalent musical culture within the
church that matches what a congregant could hear on the outside, perhaps this
could be viewed as a way of ECC attempting to shield worshippers from the
unscriptural practices they may find in a secular music environment. Jonathan,
ECC’s Assistant Music Director, expressed a desire to do his best for the
congregation, noting that:
Everyone has a God given gift. Whether you choose to use it for God is
your decision because again you have the choice to do whatever you want
with what you have, and you have the will and the right to…I guess I
choose to use it this way because God has given me that.44
ECC’s view that music was a spiritual gift and that this gift should be taken
seriously and nurtured to be excellent meant that secular standards of
performance and musicianship were accepted as part of the Worship Team’s
repertoire. The performative elements of an ECC worship service were there-
fore viewed in a positive light by the Worship Team and congregants, often
referred to, described above, as ‘excellence.’ These elements, taken from
Christian contemporary churches such as Hillsong and the African American
Gospel tradition, often encompassed a paradoxical focus on structure and
spontaneity. The ECC Worship Team rigorously practised each week for a
Sunday service, yet the spontaneity of the Holy Spirit was also encouraged to
take presence within their performances. This meant that performing to an
excellent standard for the ECC Worship Team was to borrow polished, struc-
tured performance styles from Christian contemporary music, such as the
inclusion of rhythmic dance movements, musical crescendos and audience
engagement, as well as more spontaneous acts/gifts of the Spirit, such as a
singer stepping out from the singing line to a drummer increasing a drum
pattern at an unexpected time. While ECC musicians are professional and adopt
the performative techniques of a secular professional band, some see what they
do as separate to the commercial world of performance. For example, Pastor
Sam said:
Do we use a lot of the same tools that a performer would use? Yes. So
maybe we are performers, that aren’t doing performances. Because we
would use performance techniques, projection, stage presence, commu-
nication skills, just in the same way that we would use in our sermons, we
would start within a common place.45
Recent studies have pointed towards a potential conflict with religious values
of authenticity and spontaneity in Pentecostal worship. Wagner discusses the
standardisation of contemporary worship music, particularly in the case of
Hillsong London who focuses on building a ‘brand’ of Christian music.46
These questions, however, did not cause great tension for the ECC singers and
musicians I spoke with, who all saw utilising these performative elements as
part and parcel of providing a good, spirit-filled service for fellow congregants.
In fact, singers and musicians felt that a well-prepared, structured and performed
service was an indication of the Holy Spirit.
Conclusion
This chapter has explored music making at Ealing Christian Centre. It exam-
ined the Church’s music as one of a multifaceted assortment of genres and
styles, influenced by historical traditions rooted in the African American
Church, the Protestant tradition of participatory worship and eighteenth-century
hymns, as well as contemporary Pentecostal styles that utilise secular musical
genres such as R&B and hip hop. Core to this chapter has been the ways in
which this crossover of styles informs the lively and ecstatic worship at ECC,
situated in the contemporary Christian worship practices of evangelical
58 Natalie Hyacinth
megachurches. ECC’s distinctive music is not just a case of imitation; it also
stresses innovation in the adoption and remixing of musical styles to suit the
Church’s young, diverse congregation. The distinctiveness of ECC’s music also
lies in its ability to be both inspired by the secular, whilst at the same time
maintaining a strong sense of the sacred. This chapter contributes to an
understanding of Black British Gospel music through demonstrating the ways
in which the history of the sacred and secular binary continues in the music of
a modern-day, suburban Black majority church.
Notes
1 Lily Kong, ‘Mapping “new” geographies of religion: politics and poetics in moder-
nity,’ Progress in Human Geography 25, no. 2 (June 2001): 211–233.
2 Lily Kong, ‘Mapping “new” geographies of religion,’ 218.
3 Julian Holloway, ‘Make-Believe: Spiritual Practice, Embodiment, and Sacred
Space,’ Environment and Planning A: Economy and Space 35, no. 11 (November
2003): 1961.
4 Kristy Rowan, ‘“Who are you in this body?”: Identifying demons and the path to
deliverance in a London Pentecostal church,’ Language in Society 45, no. 2 (2016):
247–270.
5 Simo Frestadius, ‘The Elim Tradition: “An Argument Extended through Time”
(Alasdair MacIntyre),’ Journal of the European Pentecostal Theological Association
36, no. 1 (2016): 57–68.
6 Pastor Sam, interview by author, 16 April 2018.
7 Janice McLean, ‘Make a Joyful Noise unto the Lord: Music and Songs within
Pentecostal West Indian Immigrant Religious Communities,’ Studies in World
Christianity 13, no. 2 (2007): 127–141.
8 Stephen Hunt and Nicola Lightly, ‘The British black Pentecostal “revival”: identity
and belief in the “new” Nigerian churches,’ Ethnic and Racial Studies 24, no. 1 (2001):
121.
9 Kristine Krause, ‘Cosmological charismatics? Transnational ways of belonging and
cosmopolitan moments in the religious practice of New Mission Churches,’ Ethnic
and Racial Studies 34, no. 3 (2011): 419–435.
10 David Garbin, ‘The Visibility and Invisibility of Migrant Faith in the City: Diaspora
Religion and the Politics of Emplacement of Afro-Christian Churches,’ Journal of
Ethnic and Migration Studies 39, no. 5 (2013): 678.
11 David Martin, Pentecostalism: The World Their Parish (London: Blackwell Pub-
lishers, 2002).
12 Wei Li, Ethnoburb: The New Ethnic Community in Urban America (Honolulu:
University of Hawaii Press, 2009).
13 Katharine Tyler, ‘The suburban paradox of conviviality in postcolonial Britain,’
Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 34, no. 11 (2017): 1890–1906.
14 Claire Dwyer, David Gilbert and Bindi Shah, ‘Faith and Suburbia: Secularisation,
Modernity and the Changing Geographies of Religion in London’s Suburbs,’
Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers 38, no. 3 (2013): 406.
15 Holloway, ‘Make-Believe: Spiritual Practice, Embodiment, and Sacred Space,’ 1961.
16 Ibrahim Abraham, ‘Sincere Performance in Pentecostal Megachurch Music,’ Reli-
gions 9, no. 6, 192 (2018): 3.
17 Krause, ‘Cosmological charismatics?’, 420–421.
18 Pauline Muir, ‘A Sound Ethnography,’ Journal of World Christianity 11., no. 2
(2021): 13.
19 Pastor Richard, interview by author, 25 July 2016.
20 Tom Wagner, ‘Branding, Music, and Religion: Standardization and Adaptation in
the Experience of the “Hillsong Sound,”’ in Religion as Brands: New Perspectives
on the Marketization of Religion and Spirituality, edited by Jean-Calaude Usunier
and Jörg Stolz (London: Ashgate, 2014), 59–73; Matthew Wade, ‘Seeker Friendly:
The Hillsong Megachurch as an Enchanting Total Institution,’ Journal of Sociology
52, no. 4 (December 2016): 661–676.
21 John Lindenbaum, ‘The pastoral role of Contemporary Christian Music: the
spiritualization of everyday life in a suburban evangelical megachurch,’ Social &
Cultural Geography 13, no. 1 (2012): 69–88.
22 John Connell, ‘Hillsong: A Megachurch in the Sydney Suburbs,’ Australian
Geographer 36, no. 3 (2005): 315–332.
23 Abraham, ‘Sincere Performance in Pentecostal Megachurch Music,’ 1–12.
24 Allan Anderson, An Introduction to Pentecostalism (Cambridge: Cambridge
25 Abraham, ‘Sincere Performance in Pentecostal Megachurch Music,’ 4.
26 Anderson, An Introduction to Pentecostalism, 14.
27 Akin, interview by author, 10 December 2015.
28 Pastor Richard, interview by author, 25 July 2016.
29 Miranda Klaver, ‘Pentecostal Pastorpreneurs and the Global Circulation of
Authoritative Aesthetic Styles,’ Culture and Religion 16, no. 2 (2015): 146–159.
30 Queen Booker, ‘Congregational Music in a Pentecostal Church,’ The Black Perspective
in Music 16, no. 1 (1988): 30–44.
31 Anderson, An Introduction to Pentecostalism, 9.
32 Nathan Myrick, ‘Embodying the Spirit: Toward a Theology of Entertainment,’
Liturgy, 33, no. 3 (2018): 30.
33 Jessica, interview by author, 12 June 2016.
34 Jessica, interview by author, 12 June 2016.
36 April Vega, ‘Music Sacred and Profane: Exploring the Use of Popular Music in
Evangelical Worship Services,’ Journal of Religion and Popular Culture 24, no. 3
(Fall 2012): 367.
37 Jonathan, interview by author, 13 June 2016.
39 Stormzy, ‘Blinded By Your Grace (Pt 1)’ track 4 on Gang Signs & Prayer (#Merky
Records, 2017).
42 George, interview by author, 24 May 2016.
43 Cluny, interview by author, 8 October 2018.
44 Jonathan, interview by author, 13 June 2016.
46 Wagner, ‘Branding, Music, and Religion.’
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Booker, Queen. ‘Congregational Music in a Pentecostal Church.’ The Black Perspective
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60 Natalie Hyacinth
Connell, John. ‘Hillsong: A Megachurch in the Sydney Suburbs.’ Australian Geographer
36, no. 3 (2005): 315–332.
Dwyer, Claire, David Gilbert, and Bindi Shah. ‘Faith and Suburbia: Secularisation,
Modernity and the Changing Geographies of Religion in London’s Suburbs.’
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Frestadius, Simo. ‘The Elim Tradition: “An Argument Extended through Time” (Alas-
dair MacIntyre).’ Journal of the European Pentecostal Theological Association 36,
no. 1 (2016): 57–68.
Garbin, David. ‘The Visibility and Invisibility of Migrant Faith in the City: Diaspora
Religion and the Politics of Emplacement of Afro-Christian Churches.’ Journal of
Ethnic and Migration Studies 39, no. 5 (2013): 677–696.
Holloway, Julian. ‘Make-Believe: Spiritual Practice, Embodiment, and Sacred Space.’
Environment and Planning A: Economy and Space 35, no. 11 (November 2003):
1961–1974.
Hunt, Stephen and Nicola Lightly. ‘The British black Pentecostal “revival”: identity and
belief in the “new” Nigerian churches.’ Ethnic and Racial Studies 24, no. 1 (2001):
104–124.
Klaver, Miranda. ‘Pentecostal Pastorpreneurs and the Global Circulation of Authoritative
Aesthetic Styles.’ Culture and Religion 16, no. 2 (2015): 146–159.
Kong, Lily. ‘Mapping new geographies of religion: politics and poetics in modernity.’
Progress in Human Geography 25, no. 2 (June 2001): 211–233.
Krause, Kristine. ‘Cosmological charismatics? Transnational ways of belonging and
cosmopolitan moments in the religious practice of New Mission Churches.’ Ethnic
and Racial Studies 34, no. 3 (2011): 419–435.
Li, Wei. Ethnoburb: The New Ethnic Community in Urban America. Honolulu:
University of Hawaii Press, 2009.
Lindenbaum, John. ‘The pastoral role of Contemporary Christian Music: the spir-
itualization of everyday life in a suburban evangelical megachurch.’ Social & Cultural
Geography 13, no. 1 (2012): 69–88.
McLean, Janice. ‘Make a Joyful Noise unto the Lord: Music and Songs within Pente-
costal West Indian Immigrant Religious Communities.’ Studies in World Christianity
13, no. 2 (2007): 127–141.
Martin, David. Pentecostalism: The World Their Parish. London: Blackwell, 2002.
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3 Just Like Church, Not Like Church,
or Better Than Church?
Community Gospel Choirs as Lived
Religion and Convivial Spiritual Practice
in the Contemporary United Kingdom
Monique M. Ingalls
Introduction
In the UK, gospel music has long been both a church music nurtured by Black
British Christian communities as well as a popular music for listening.1 In the
first two decades of the twenty-first century, gospel choirs were transplanted
into spaces beyond Black Majority Churches and began to flourish in these
new community choir settings. Their success came partly as a result of the
renaissance of amateur choral singing in Britain.2 As a 2 January 2020 music
column in The Guardian put it, amateur choirs—particularly of the non-clas-
sical variety—had become deeply ‘cool’ in Britain, thanks to national media
exposure. Televised choir contests and choir-based reality TV shows regularly
feature community choirs comprised of amateur singers from a wide variety of
racial and ethnic backgrounds, ages, and occupations.3 In 2018, British gospel
choirs specifically were put at the forefront of national and international con-
sciousness after the Kingdom Choir’s stand-out performance of ‘Stand By Me’
at the wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle, reaching a worldwide
audience of an estimated two billion people. But well before the Kingdom
Choir performed on the world stage, gospel choirs were quietly growing as
regional networks and multi-site community choir ‘franchises’ were formed
across the country.
The faces within the most well-known professional gospel choirs in the UK,
including the Kingdom Choir and London Community Gospel Choir, remain
predominantly Black British.4 However, many amateur gospel choirs are
markedly diverse in terms of race, ethnicity, and religion, which raises several
questions for those interested in tracing the historical development and under-
standing the social significance of contemporary British gospel music. In a
society variously deemed post-Christian and post-secular, where it is common
to ‘believe without belonging,’5 what draws people across racial, ethnic, and
religious backgrounds to join gospel choirs? How is gospel music understood
and experienced by the diverse British individuals who gather to sing it? How
do we describe the kinds of choral communities formed in the process of
Just Like Church, Not Like Church, or Better Than Church? 63
singing gospel? And how might answering these questions provide insight into
how people in contemporary, (post)-secular Western societies are using music
to create spiritual communities? To address these questions, this chapter pre-
sents the findings from hybrid6 ethnographic field research conducted in-person
and online from 2018 to 2021. The perspectives of choir directors and members
show the degree to which gospel choirs unaffiliated with churches serve as
spiritual communities for British singers of diverse backgrounds. Their voices
also attest to the intertwining roles of churches, popular media, and choir
director ‘gatekeepers’ in shaping this unique form of spiritual collectivity in
contemporary Britain.
A Note on Methodology: A White American ‘Outsider’s’ Perspective

on British-Lived Religion
As the only non-Black and non-British contributor to this volume on Black
British Gospel Music, my perspective comes from a geographical and cultural
remove to British gospel phenomenon than many of my co-contributors. As a
white American woman, I teach at a Baptist-affiliated university, lead music at
a small Episcopal parish, and participate in an eclectic variety of music-making
activities, Christian and otherwise. While I have long enjoyed listening to—and
occasionally participating in—gospel choirs, I am not a ‘culture bearer’ of the
gospel music tradition.7 As a religious music researcher and lecturer, I am
fascinated by gospel music’s global travels and have long drawn upon gospel
music as a lens for exploring the dynamics of musical localization and globa-
lization with students in my university courses. My position as a relative geo-
graphical and cultural outsider is thus complicated by certain aspects of being
a religious and/or institutional ‘insider.’ Over the course of my field research,
many religious institutional connections emerged over conversations with
interviewees, as well as university connections with conversation partners
within British universities. Indeed, many reflections on ethnographic field
research have shown that ‘insider’ and ‘outsider’ identities are neither fixed
nor absolute; rather, these distinctions vary across time and shift along with
complex, intersectional affiliations.8
It is my hope that the account that follows will provide a complementary
perspective from a researcher who is at a remove from the British Black Gospel
Music phenomenon in many ways, while of increasing proximity in others.
One methodological approach that my distanced position afforded was an
inductive approach to gospel music in Britain. Rather than assuming a defini-
tion of gospel music a priori, I was instead interested to discover how the
varying groups that called themselves ‘gospel choirs’ defined this music,
regardless of the ethnic, racial, or religious background of their members.
While some choirs are located squarely within the historical and cultural nar-
rative of ‘Black British Gospel Music’ as set forth in this book’s introduction,
other groups do not fit neatly within this designation. For instance, my study
includes two predominantly white choirs who sang a mixture of ‘classic’
64 Monique M. Ingalls
African American gospel music and praise and worship music, along with a
choir with members from mixed ethnic and racial backgrounds who sang
mainly gospel-inspired arrangements of pop songs. Understanding gospel from
an inductive definitional approach impressed upon me the contingent, con-
tested meanings of the term ‘gospel,’ as well as the religious and racial faultlines
within current practice that this chapter will explore.
Gospel music’s sacred roots and functions within religious worship are well-
known; however, I did not enter this study assuming that gospel choirs were
performing religious roles for participants. Rather, the religious and spiritual
meanings of gospel music emerged from interviews with choir directors and
responses to open-ended survey questions. In the summers of 2018 and 2019, I
conducted thirteen in-person interviews with British gospel choir directors in
the Greater London area, South West England, and the Midlands, with several
follow-up interviews conducted via Zoom video conferencing after the start of
the COVID-19 pandemic. To gather perspectives of choir members, I admi-
nistered an online survey in the summer of 2018 and the summer of 2020,
which garnered 114 responses among members of 14 gospel choirs (see
Appendix 1 for the full text of this survey).
As a result of the dominance of religious and spiritual themes within these
responses, this chapter takes as one of its main theoretical lenses an approach
known as lived religion, or everyday religion.9 In their recent review article
surveying the approach, Kim Knibbe and Helena Kupari describe lived religion
as follows:
As an approach, it builds from the ground up, emphasizes empirical case

studies, but also uses them to reflect critically on existing concepts and
theories, bringing attention to phenomena, people, and locations margin-
alized by conventional perspectives. The lived religion approach does not
rely on a priori definitions of religion or propose phenomenologically to
establish what is common to all religions. Furthermore, it does not
delineate a particular segment of religious phenomena (e.g. ‘unofficial’
practices and beliefs) and leave out others. Nor does it presuppose its
subject: lived religion is not ‘out there’ for us to study. Rather, lived reli-
gion is an approach that is suitable for inquiring into what people do that
they identify as religious, spiritual or generally as going beyond
common-sense understandings of the world.10
Following Knibbe’s and Kupari’s description, it is the goal of this chapter

to use British gospel music to ‘bring attention to phenomena…and people
marginalized by conventional perspectives’ that may see amateur singing or
gospel choirs outside of churches as ‘less than.’ And it highlights the com-
plexity of gospel music’s meaning, as singers’ different interpretations—
conditioned both by ‘official’ church doctrine and widely circulating extra-
ecclesial spiritual discourses—confer upon it differing degrees of spiritual
importance.
Entering the World of British Gospel Community Choirs:
A First-Time Visitor’s Account
The following narrative, adapted from fieldnotes taken in the summer of 2018,
provides an account of my entry into the world of British gospel choirs.
On an uncomfortably warm Thursday night during the July 2018 British

heat wave, I take a taxi from my Airbnb flat near the city centre of Bristol
to the southwestern suburb of Knowle West. My South Asian taxi driver
thinks I must have the wrong address; on the way, he tells me all about
unfavorable local impressions of the area. I assure him that I’ll be fine; I’m
going to a gospel choir rehearsal.
We arrive at a brick building across from a takeaway kebab shop. I
walk into the Inns Court Community Centre a few minutes early. The
Renewal Choir meets in a multipurpose room within the Community
Centre that serves on Sundays as the meeting place of a congregation
affiliated with the Church of God of Prophecy, a prominent Black British
Pentecostal denomination in which the choir director and her husband
have deep roots. Though the furnishings are sparse, the community centre
has some of the trappings of a church; a simple cross has been erected on
the front wall, flanked by two screens for projecting lyrics during con-
gregational singing. A keyboard sits on the stage to the left of a lectern
and is halfway obscured by a rangy potted plant. I am one of the first to
arrive, though others are trickling in steadily; I introduce myself to a tall
Black man who I recognize as the choir director’s husband.
I take my seat in the alto section and chat with the other women sitting
nearby. I introduce myself to the women sitting in front of me, Sheila, a
middle-aged Black woman and her sister Carol, who is visiting from
London. I learn from Carol that, though she and her sister both grew up
in church, she has not regularly attended in nearly thirty years. Her sister,
a church-goer, had asked her to come sing with her this evening. From the
smile that plays on her lips, it seems it didn’t take much convincing for
Carol to oblige. An older white woman with light blond hair and a
German accent sitting just down from them smiles and welcomes me.
Ellie, the woman sitting immediately to my left, is a mixed-race woman in
her early 30s with several tattoos on her arms. As we chat, I learn she is a
social worker with two young children and has been a member of the
choir for 6 months. She tells me straight off that she isn’t at all religious,
but that she had always wanted to sing in a gospel choir. When looking
online for area choirs to join, she was delighted to discover that this choir
rehearsed a mere 5-minute walk from her house.
A few minutes after 7:00pm, Kim Samuels, the director, begins the
rehearsal. Samuels opens and closes the rehearsal with prayer, and a few
of the choir members make verbal interjections (‘praise Him!’ ‘that’s
right!’) like in a church service. The choir’s times of prayer (as well as
other spoken elements, like announcements) are underscored by a gospel
keyboardist playing with a strings or Hammond organ pads. Over the
course of the two-hour rehearsal, the forty-strong choir sings four songs,
all American contemporary gospel standards from the last decade and a
half. The women around me sing enthusiastically and move or sway
nearly the entire time. Toward the end of the rehearsal, I move to the back
of the room to get a better sense of the gathering as a whole. I am struck
by the mix of individuals across race, ethnicity, and social class—if not
gender. Roughly half the choir’s membership this evening are white, and
the other half are black. (I find out later from a conversation with the
director that the majority of Black choir members hail from Caribbean des-
cent, though there are a handful members of African descent as well). There
are a few other ethnicities represented, including three South Asian women.
And all but eight choir members and the keyboard player are women.
Field Reflection, July 5, 2018
This account of Bristol’s Renewal Choir rehearsal underscores the racial,

ethnic, and religious diversity that can characterize gospel community choirs.
Given the diversity represented within and across many gospel choirs, I was
curious to find out from choir members what drew them to sing in a gospel
choir, and what gospel music meant to them. In order to assess how choir
members understood their gospel choir experience, gospel choir directors
helped me to distribute an anonymous online survey called the ‘Gospel Stories
Survey’ (hereafter, GSS) to the members of 14 British gospel choirs in 2018 and
2020. These choirs were mainly clustered in the Greater London Area
(London, Surrey), South West England (Bristol and various towns in Corn-
wall), and the Midlands (Birmingham, Coventry, Newcastle-under-Lyme),
with a few outliers in Northwest England (Manchester). With the permission of
choir leaders, I posted a link to the GSS on the choirs’ social media pages, and in
some cases the leaders emailed the link directly to the choir members. (see
Appendix 1 for survey questions). For the purposes of this chapter, I have filtered
out church choirs and analyzed the results solely of the choirs that were not reli-
giously affiliated; all information that follows is from members of choirs that
functioned as non-sectarian community groups, registered charities, or university
organizations.
The Gospel Stories Survey began with several multiple-choice questions to
gather demographic information and proceeded to a series of open-ended
questions probing singers’ history with gospel music and its significance to
them. Table 3.1 shows a simplified11 demographic breakdown of the 114
participants who responded to the survey.
For British singers, the multifaceted roots and routes of gospel music mean
that choir members can identify with and understand their participation within
it in a number of ways. Gospel music is understood variously as an 1) African
American, 2) African diasporic, 3) popular spiritual 4) Christian musical
repertory (Figure 3.1).
Figure 3.1 British Perspectives on Gospel Music’s Origins and Owners
First, as a music created by African Americans, many singers, regardless of

their own racial or ethnic backgrounds, perceive gospel to originate from a
cultural group at some distance from them. In an open-ended survey question
that asked gospel choir members what gospel artists, groups, or songs they
found inspiring, the responses were overwhelmingly African American. Tasha
Cobbs Leonard, Kirk Franklin, Richard Smallwood, and Donnie McClurkin
were favourites across lines of race and ethnicity. Survey respondents of West
African heritage frequently listed ‘new generation’ African American gospel
artists such as Jonathan McReynolds, Travis Greene, and William McDowell.
White singers tended to mention older, ‘canonical’ African American singers
and their songs more often, such as André Crouch, Mahalia Jackson, and
Aretha Franklin.
Many of the survey and interview questions attest to African diasporic,
popular sacred, and Christian perspectives; however, one question illustrates
these differences in microcosm. Table 3.2 groups responses to an open-ended
question to ascertain how different singers first encountered gospel music.
Table 3.1 Demographic Information for Gospel Stories Survey (GSS) Respondents12
Gender Age Race Religion
Women 80% 18–24 37% South Asian 5% Christian 85%
Men 20% 25–49 22% Black 23% Other Religion 4%
Other 0 50–64 21% White 67% No religion 11%
65+ 20% Other 5%
For many members of African Caribbean or West African heritage, gospel

music’s origin as a product of the African diaspora created a deep sense of
identification with family and community. All but one GSS respondent who
identified as Black registered that they were introduced to gospel music by their
families or singing it at church. Below are some representative responses:
‘It was the first music that was introduced to me as a child.’

19-year-old Black British (Caribbean) Anglican university student
‘As a child (3 or 4 years old) my mum always played gospel music in the
house’
20-year-old Black British (African) Catholic university student
‘Age 12 when i started going to a Pentecostal church’

Black British (Caribbean) woman, mid-50s
Some respondents went into detail about their family’s listening practices or
even recollections of specific moments. One Black British university student of
African descent recollected:
I’ve always been singing songs at church (especially hymns). But the first time I
remember hearing contemporary gospel music was at my cousin’s house. It
was “He reigns/ Awesome God” Kirk Franklin (around the age of six).
For Black British singers, singing gospel music is continuing in a tradition that
ties them to parents, grandparents, cousins, and church members.
For those outside the Black community, broadcast media are a central
means of introducing gospel music. Half of Asian respondents and over one-
third of white respondents report were first encountering gospel music
through broadcast media, including the Sister Act movies and gospel choir
performances on British radio and television. As a popular music repertoire,
the sounds of gospel music, as well as some songs within the gospel reper
toire, are widely familiar. In her work on British community choirs who sing
an eclectic mix of popular styles including gospel, ethnomusicologist Caroline
Bithell observes that ‘African American musical styles are comfortingly familiar at a
more general level because of the way in which they have underpinned most genres
Table 3.2 ‘Where Did You First Encounter Gospel Music?’
Popular Musical Media (29%) Live Choir Performance (29%)
Film or Television (15%) University/Secondary School Choir
(14%)
Musical Recordings (6%) Community Choir (11%)
Radio (4%) Professional choir (4%)
Other or Unspecified (4%)
Family (17%) Uncertain/No Response (13%)
Church (12%)
of Anglo-American popular music since the 1950s.’13 Because of gospel’s close

relationship to other popular music styles, including R&B, rock, and some musical
theatre, singers proficient in these styles feel at home singing gospel.14 Indeed, some
choir directors viewed gospel as the choral music most suited to engaging the Brit
ish population in their everyday lives; in essence, gospel music provided a choral
music ‘vernacular.’
The gospel choir’s intimate connection to everyday life was a thread
developed in a conversation with Martin, a middle-aged white British man
and devout Anglican. Martin, who formerly led pop-rock-style worship
music in his charismatic Anglican church in Cornwall, was inspired to start
a gospel choir in his small village in Cornwall after the death of his father.
(His choir is composed almost wholly of white British female pensioners.)
Contrasting gospel music to other forms of Christian religious music,
including Anglican choral music, on the one hand, and pop-rock-based
praise and worship music, on the other, Martin told me that gospel music is
‘where the people are.’ Gospel music, he believed, was the music that he
believed resonated with the largest number of people, and the music that
motivated his choir members to inspire others. Martin’s choir, made up of a
mix of Christian and non-religious white retirees, toured widely not only in
the southwestern England and Wales, but in an annual tour across the
Channel to France.
While broadcast media are important, survey responses also highlight the
importance of live performances of amateur choirs, particularly those affili
ated with community-based organizations or educational institutions, in
introducing gospel to those outside the British Black community. A third of
Asian respondents and over one-third of white choir members recount that their
first experience with gospel music was through live performances by choirs
affiliated with an educational or community-based institution, including sec
ondary school choirs, university gospel choirs, and local community choir per
formances. Professional choirs’ live performances did not figure highly in
introducing white or Asian respondents to gospel music.15 Rather, non-pro
fessional community groups—that many respondents recounted later joining
themselves—had the most significant influence.
The final point of identification with gospel music is one that crosses racial
and ethnic differences: gospel’s religious roots and resonances. Seven Black
singers and seven white singers, together comprising 12% of the total survey
respondents, recount that they first encountered gospel music at church. For
these singers, gospel music provides a through line between religious worship
and their singing with a community or university choir. Singers who first
encountered gospel music at church emphasized gospel’s Christian roots and
its primary function as a devotional music. When asked what characteristics
define a song as ‘gospel,’ a Black British (African) university student reflected:
‘In my opinion this is based mostly on the lyrics within a song and the
message they portray. Essentially, to me, gospel music should share the
good news or the experience of it in one form or the other.’
Some who understand gospel as primarily a music for Christian worship are
more likely to see gospel music as belonging to the global Christian church.
Are Gospel Choirs Just Like Church, Not Like Church, or Better Than
Church?: Gospel Music’s Varied Religious and Spiritual Meanings
Given the various associations explored in the preceding section, there are
several places in which gospel music’s various connotations may produce ten-
sion, or even contradict one another. This section examines one such potential
terrain for conflict: gospel music’s explicitly religious/Christian connotations,
on the one hand, and its understanding as a generically spiritual practice, on
the other.
These tensions became apparent when probing what meanings gospel holds
for individuals. Two open-ended questions on the Gospel Stories Survey asked
participants 1) what gospel music meant to them and 2) what gospel music did
(its function or effect, whether personal or communal). The responses to these
questions have been grouped in the discussion that follows because they were
so similar. (Some survey respondents did not answer the second question but
rather referred the reader to their responses to the question about meaning
where they had already addressed gospel’s effects.) Analyzing participants’
responses to these two questions elicited a number of frequently repeated terms
and ideas. Table 3.3 shows the most common words16 participants used when
describing gospel’s meaning and effect.
Many of these word choices are expected, given the widely circulating
associations of gospel music. There are strong connotations of religion and
spirituality, as seen in references to God, spirituality, worship, soul, and faith.
That gospel is a means for emotional expression is seen in singers’ reference to
feel/feeling, joy, emotion, and uplift. Words that relate to strong positive rela-
tionships with others feature prominently as well in ideas such as people,
community, love, and friends. When parsing these results by religious affilia-
tion, one finding that emerged is that most singers claim that singing in a
gospel choir serves a spiritual function whether or not the singers claim a
religious affiliation. For respondents who claimed a Christian religious affilia-
tion (and for the one devout Muslim), gospel choirs were understood as a
place of worship—in the words of one respondent, ‘just like church.’
‘For me it is a celebration of community under God. An exercise in prayer.

A joyful proclamation of faith.’
Muslim man of unspecified ethnicity in his late 40s, London
‘[Singing gospel] is a way of leaving my burdens at the foot of the cross. I

go to choir feeling very low some days and when I sing and praise God
something changes.’
Black British (Caribbean) woman in her late 50s, Bristol
‘I personally love worship music, so to me gospel music is for people to

express their worship/ praise to God. It’s a way to communicate with
God.’
Black British (African) woman, university student, West Midlands
‘It’s a key part of my faith, a way to minister to others and one of the
ways God ministers to me. Being in a non Christian (multi-faith) choir
I believe singing and declaring scriptures and biblical principles with
those who don’t believe has a lasting effect on their spiritual awareness
and prepares them to receive the Word of God in other forms.’
Black British (Caribbean) woman in her early 40s, London
Religiously unaffiliated singers similarly emphasized the spiritual dimen-

sions and functions of gospel choirs, sometimes explicitly comparing or
contrasting gospel’s spiritual efficacy to that of organized Christian
traditions:
Table 3.3 Top 20 Words Related to Gospel’s Meaning and Effect

God (64) good (23) worship (20)
feel (51) joy (22) emotionally (19)
people (43) times (22) soul (17)
community (38) makes (21) uplifting (17)
love (37) spiritually (21) express (16)
way (37) great (20) faith (16)
helps (28) life (20) friends (16)
words (26) like (20)
feeling (23) means (20)
‘Gospel means singing beautiful music together, allowing others to feel
closer to God. Bringing comfort to those in need.’
Religiously unaffiliated British Indian woman in her early 50s, Bristol
‘The songs buzz around my head and the words have lots of meaning for
me. I was a Catholic and [gospel] keeps me in touch with reflection and
the deeper meanings of life despite not being a Christian now.’
Religiously unaffiliated white British woman in her early 70s, Bath
‘Although I am not a religious person, I am a spiritual one and I feel

gospel music fulfills this spiritual need in me in a much purer way than
going to church and listening to a priest ever could.’
Religiously unaffiliated white British woman in her early 60s, Bristol
While the second quote above from a religiously unaffiliated singer compares
gospel to church, the third statement makes a strong contrast between the two,
claiming the superiority of gospel as a spiritual expression. Singing in a gospel
choir is, for this participant, unlike her previous church experiences and better
at meeting her spiritual needs. Her response was echoed by a handful of white
Christian respondents who described their participation in gospel choirs as
more spiritually fulfilling than worship in their churches. One man in his late
20s, involved in a charismatic Anglican congregation, described his involve-
ment this way: ‘Gospel music gives me a freedom to express my worship
without inhibition in a way that I find difficult in other contemporary and
traditional worship styles.’ A white Christian woman in her early 60s from
Bristol similarly commented: ‘Some songs make me feel closer to mum and dad
who both died many years ago…I feel happier and closer to God when I am
singing in the choir more than when I attend my church.’
The idea of gospel community choirs as spiritual communities that are
better than church was explored in some depth in conversations with Ger-
aldine Latty-Luce, who has also contributed a chapter to this volume from her
perspective as a ‘reluctant’ gospel choir director (see pp. 83–104). Latty-Luce
founded the Gospel Generation Community Choir network with four locations
in the Bristol area and now in several other British cities. In a conversation
over Zoom, she told me a litany of stories of personal transformation that she
has collected over a decade of directing gospel choirs in Bristol and London. In
reflecting on these stories, she mused:
What appears to be happening in community [gospel] choirs is—in any

other context you’d call it prayer. In any other context you’d call it wor-
ship. In any other context you’d call it hearing from God or a ‘word of
knowledge’ or whatever. But [the singers] are not in a Sunday church set-
ting. They’re at graves. They’re at bedsides. They’re commuting. They’re
struggling with depression. But they’re vocalizing, verbalizing stuff that in
any other context would have, you know, weighty, weighty inferences of
worship and gathering people into community. So I find it…fascinating
that this is not going on in Sunday churches where many people are per-
haps crying out, ‘oh, I wish we could have more word [of knowledge]. I
wish we could have more worship. I wish we could have more worship
that was relevant. I wish we could have more, you know, more connection
with the everyday.’ And actually I guess for me the observation has been—
and the wakeup call and I guess the passion that you’re hearing my voice
now—is that I saw that week by week by week in choir in community
more than I saw it in Sunday churches.17
Latty-Luce’s musing here provides a Christian theological interpretation of the

activities of religiously unaffiliated participants. She highlights the fine line that
distinguishes Christian devotional practices of prayer, worship, and testimony
from similar activities in which her religiously unaffiliated choir members take
part, and questions whether this distinction is in fact meaningful. Gospel music
gives these singers a means of expression in the face of the ineffable, a way to
attend to their mental health, and a means for accessing the transcendent as
they go about their everyday lives. She expresses frustration with the ‘Sunday
churches’ who do not recognize the work of spiritual transformation being
done—as she and other respondents above suggest, more effectively—within
community gospel choirs.
It is fruitful to juxtapose Geraldine Latty-Luce’s Christian theological inter-
pretation with that of Patricia, a 70-something ‘spiritual-but-not-religious’
white British singer who provided this response to the question of what gospel
choir music means to her:
I’m not a Christian. I have been on a ‘spiritual’ path all my life, prompted
by my desire to be all that I can be, to all of Life around me. If someone
had said fifteen years ago ‘you’ll be singing in a Gospel choir,’ I’d have
laughed at them. The joy drew me in, and that has grown over the twelve
years I’ve been in the choir. And of course this [joy] gets given out,
especially at concerts. When I sing at a concert I really get into what I
call the energy of the song. The words may well get somewhat trans-
lated in my being, but it’s the same message. It goes out to the audi-
ence, they respond. It becomes a spiral that continues to go out, well
beyond the room. I think it’s a very positive and healing force in these
times.18
While there are obvious differences between Patricia’s and Geraldine’s per-
spectives, there is also a remarkable parallel. For Patricia, her non-Christian
beliefs mean that the Christian lyrics of gospel songs must be, as she puts it,
‘somewhat translated in my being.’ But, like Geraldine, Patricia recognizes a
fundamental sameness despite the differences in terminology that reflect dif-
ferences in deeply held beliefs: ‘it’s the same message…a very positive and
healing force in these times.’
The strong parallels in these perspectives affirm Nancy Ammerman’s asser-
tion that discourses of ‘spirituality’ and ‘religion’ are not mutually exclusive,
but rather overlap to a great extent.19 Ammerman’s inductive study discovered
theistic understandings of spirituality were informed by religious institutions
and maintained in practice within congregations. She also found that there is a
non-theistic cluster of ideas about spirituality that is used by religious and non-
religious individuals alike; these ideas involve transcendent experiences that are
‘beyond the ordinary,’ yet located ‘in the core of the self, in connection to
community, in the sense of awe engendered by…beauty, and in the life philo-
sophies crafted by an individual seeking life’s meaning.’20 Gospel music is a
repertoire par excellence for bridging individual spirituality and organized
religion: it enables a potent mixture of explicitly religious and non-theistic
spiritual ideas that can be interpreted in myriad ways for singers on every part
of the spectrum of belief.
Establishing Gospel’s Boundaries: Choir Director as Gatekeeper and

Curator of Spiritual Community
Discussions in the previous sections attested to the semiotic flexibility of gospel
music within British gospel community choirs: in other words, the propensity
for its meaning to vary based on the backgrounds and experiences of those
interpreting it. Over the course of observation of rehearsals and numerous
conversations with gospel choir directors, I found that this flexibility is neither
a ‘natural’ outgrowth of the musical style nor a given; rather, it is something
that choir directors help to cultivate.
Every British gospel choir has to wrestle in some capacity with two ques-
tions: to what extent is singing in a gospel choir like ‘having church’? And to
what extent should it be? The answers to these questions differed markedly
from director to director, depending in great part on the choir’s makeup and
the director’s understanding of the choir’s mission. Of the 15 community and
university gospel choir directors with whom I spoke, all of the directors identified
as Christian, and all but three were active participants in local churches. By con-
trast, the majority of directors described their choirs as religiously diverse. Most
community choir directors stated that a sizeable portion of their participants were
not religious: their estimates of religiously unaffiliated participants ranged from
one in five members at the lowest to over half the members at the highest.
In the face of the religious and spiritual diversity of choir members, gospel
choir directors become gatekeepers, defining and maintaining boundaries
around what (if any) explicitly Christian practices or teachings are acceptable
in the space of choir rehearsal. Through words and actions large and small,
direct and indirect, the choir director helps to determine the boundaries
between choir and church, as well as how porous these boundaries are. They
do so in three primary ways: through how they structure rehearsals, through
the other activities they incorporate as part of choir rehearsals and perfor-
mances, and by how they verbally frame the activity of singing gospel music.
First, the choir director’s choice of structure for the rehearsal may influence
the perception of that choir as a spiritual community. Some choir rehearsals
have what might be called a ‘liturgical structure’ that strongly reinforces the
sense of gospel choir rehearsals as spiritual communities akin to church. In the
rehearsals I attended over the summers of 2018 and 2019, I found that the
Bristol-based Renewal Choir’s rehearsal from the chapter’s opening narrative
is structured more or less like a church service. The choir meets in a space used
for worship with many of the visible trappings of a church. Director Kim
Samuels bookends the rehearsal with prayer, and intersperses prayers and
exhortations throughout the rehearsal. In more than one rehearsal I attended,
the keyboard player would punctuate these moments on the keyboard with
pads reminiscent of a Hammond organ, or of the string-heavy synth pads used
in Pentecostal praise and worship music. The Renewal Choir’s rehearsal
includes a time for introducing new singers and for community announce-
ments. And on more than one occasion, choir members were invited to sing
solos as a form of testimony to their experience. Other choir rehearsals bore
little to no resemblance to a Christian service. Several other community choirs
whose rehearsals I attended, for instance, featured a standard non-religious
choir rehearsal structure: stretches, vocal warm-ups, call-and-echo vocal part
learning, rehearsal of full pieces, ending with announcements about upcoming
events. In many of these rehearsals, Christian activities like prayer or testi-
mony would have been markedly out of place.
In addition to rehearsal structure, another area in which choir directors
navigated their choir’s relationship to churches related to the types of perfor-
mance in which they chose to engage. Some directors asked their choirs to
perform within church services on occasion, while other directors had unspo-
ken policies against direct involvement in religious worship (though they
would perform concerts in churches).
While gospel choir directors drew the boundaries between community choirs
and institutional churches differently, what remained consistent was the felt
imperative to create a space where the religiously unaffiliated were free to
interpret and experience gospel music in their own way without feeling pres-
sure to subscribe to the director’s religious interpretation (or in the case of
some choirs, that of zealous religious members). Choir directors, to one
degree or other, cultivated an intentional ambiguity around the meaning(s)
and purpose(s) of singing gospel music. Kim Samuels, director of the
Renewal gospel community choir in Bristol, told me that she started the
choir:
on the basis of a Christian ethos. … [but] we don’t exclude anyone, so we

do have non-Christians [who] come along just because they love the
music. But interestingly, with those people, a lot of them say that they feel
that the choir allows them that spiritual connection to God that they don’t
get because they don’t go to church…[through gospel], they feel that they
can connect somehow.21
A similar perspective was shared by Clarence Hunte, director of the Soul
Sanctuary choir in London. At the time of our conversation in 2019, Soul
Sanctuary sang regularly in evening services in Catholic and Church of Eng-
land churches in Central London. Hunte, raised a Methodist, estimated the
choir’s membership to be approximately three-quarters Christians from across
denominations, with the remaining quarter comprising religiously unaffiliated
singers along with one devout Muslim. Hunte reflected,
I know choirs who believe that if you don’t believe, you shouldn’t be
singing gospel music or preaching the word as well. But for me personally,
I don’t know what God has in plan for people. I’m not going to block
their journey. If this is what God wants some people to do to spread his
word in this way, even if they might not believe, I’m not the one to stop
that from happening. So this is a very inclusive choir. Faith…is not a
necessity.22
A more proactive approach to policing the boundaries on behalf of non-religious

members is taken by other directors. In our conversation during the Summer of
2018, Jo Sercombe, a white middle-aged woman who runs the Bath Commu-
nity Gospel Choir (BCGC), estimated that only 15–20% of her choir are
churchgoers. In describing to me her attempts to be sensitive to (non)religious
preferences of the majority of her singers, she mused: ‘I think the religious
tolerance in this country is quite a delicate balance, actually. People can be
very sensitive about it, whether they feel that you’re pushing things in people’s
faces or whether you’re trying to sell them something.’ She described to me
that explicitly framing the gospel choir as a ‘concert choir’ has helped to create
a sense of openness:
We make a distinction that we are a concert choir to all in terms of its

purposes. We don’t sing for [church] services as our first priority. We sing
for people’s weddings and all kinds of things like that, but we’re not
involved in the service structure of [a church] or anything like that, and
we’ve found it quite important to make that distinction. We have some
people in the choir who say, ‘you know, I’ll sing in the choir but I don’t
want to sing in church services. I’ve got a thing about—it’s not what I
want to do’.23
Though certain Christian practices like prayer take place occasionally within
BCGC rehearsals, Jo facilitates a smaller group of the choir’s Christian singers
to engage in practices outside of rehearsals. Jo recounted praying in choir
rehearsals on occasion—for instance, when one of the members was under-
going treatment for cancer—and mentioned organizing a group of Christian
choir members to meet before rehearsals to pray for the needs and concerns of
the choir. She describes the Christian element of BCGC as a ‘background’
element:
So we have it there in the background, but we’re saying if you want to
interact with it, you’re very welcome. We want to be open about it, but
you can just as easily come to the choir and go, ‘I’m not having any of
that; I just like the grooves.’
Emma Smallwood, a white British woman, is the director of a community

gospel choir network with four choirs in the Bristol area and three others in
Southwest England. Coming from a Free Church tradition herself, Emma
described to me her own felt imperative to reinforce the religiously open nature
of the community choir:
I make it quite clear that we’re not a church choir. We are a community
choir, so it’s for anyone who wants to come and sing. I don’t want [choir]
to be a place where people feel, ‘if I come along, then people are just going
to start pouncing on me and wanting me to do all these Christian things,
when actually I just want to come and sing.’ So I try and keep it very
much that…whether you’re a Christian, someone of no faith, or someone
of a different faith, that we’re all equal and we’re singing these songs
together. And if I see enthusiastic Christians trying to ‘help’ other people
become more interested in the faith side of things, I will try and diffuse
that in whatever way I can, because we’re not a church choir, we’re a
community choir who sings gospel.24
Whether they see their role as nurturing members’ spiritual growth or simply
providing a space of spiritual potential, choir directors play a key role in
shaping the spiritual environment of gospel choirs and establishing the degree
of flexibility in gospel music’s interpretation.
Final Thoughts: Community Gospel Choirs and Spiritual Conviviality
This chapter has aimed to show how and why gospel music has taken root within
contemporary British choral communities, comprised of people from varied
backgrounds and upbringings. The Gospel Stories Survey attests to the impor-
tance of gospel music to personal spirituality from singers across a wide spectrum
of religious belief and unbelief, and interviews from choir directors have demon-
strated the intentional cultivation of flexible interpretations of gospel music.
Gospel music is eminently useful for creating choral communities because of the
range of historical and religious meanings associated with it, as well as those that
are established through the relationships forged through singing together. Identi-
fying these key dynamics of British gospel community choirs may enable us to
better understand how music forms spiritual collectives in contemporary post-
Christian societies.
In closing, I wish to introduce a final interpretive paradigm that may be
helpful in this understanding: an adaptation of the concept of conviviality
developed initially by Paul Gilroy.25 Social scientists studying urban multi-cul-
tures have employed conviviality to describe the social practices and strategies
that people with widely diverging backgrounds and values use to live together
without ignoring or effacing their differences.26 Many British gospel choirs are
convivial spaces in the sense that they gather participants across racial and
ethnic differences. But to account for the religious and spiritual work that these
choirs help to accomplish, it would be productive to expand conviviality to
describe spaces and practices where religious, spiritual, and non-religious
understandings are allowed to co-mingle with none being privileged over the
other. Spiritual conviviality, in this sense, would be a mode of social interac-
tion that privileges spiritual experience without insisting that participants have
a shared interpretation of the sacred. In contrast to the uniformity of under-
standing demanded by many religious institutions, in spaces of spiritual con-
viviality, what is paramount is sociality: creating and experiencing something
beyond the everyday together. In promoting spiritual conviviality, musical
organizations like gospel choirs provide a unique space where the diverse
individuals, communities, and religious ideas within the contemporary United
Kingdom (and elsewhere) are perceived as an opportunity for dialogue rather
than a threat to belief or practice. Perhaps gospel choirs can come full circle, as
choirs within religious institutions adopt the openness and care that community
gospel choirs, at their best, strive to embody.
Notes
1 To date, beyond the present volume, there are very few sources that chronicle the
history of gospel music in the United Kingdom. Two helpful general audience
books are Steve Alexander Smith, British Black Gospel: The Foundations of This
Vibrant UK Sound (Oxford: Monarch Books, 2009); and Roy N Francis, How to
Make Gospel Music Work for You: From the Music of the Windrush Generation to
Present Day Gospel (Croydon, Surrey: Filament Publishing, 2019). For academic
historical and theological perspectives, see Dulcie Dixon McKenzie, ‘The Future of
the Past: Forging a Historical Context for Black Gospel Music as a Tradition
amongst African Caribbean Pentecostals in Post-War Britain’ (Ph.D. Dissertation,
Birmingham, UK, University of Birmingham, 2014) and Isaac Odeniran, Jordan’s
Demeanours: Research into UK Black Gospel Music (Peterborough: Fast-Print
Publishing, 2014).
2 For a detailed account of the factors leading to this choral renaissance, see Caroline
Bithell, A Different Voice, a Different Song: Reclaiming Community through the
Natural Voice and World Song (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014).
3 Some of these choirs are unified by singing a particular style of music, such as rock,
gospel, or ‘global’ (see Bithell, A Different Voice, A Different Song, 2014). Examples
of affinity and occupation-based choirs include the Lewisham and Greenwich NHS
choir, which is composed entirely of NHS staff; or the Military Wives Choir, which
features spouses of active and retired British military personnel.
4 The terms ‘professional’ and ‘amateur’ do not necessarily correspond to aesthetic
quality, nor does ‘professional’ imply full-time paid work. Rather, ‘professional’ is
used to denote choirs whose members are paid for singing, while ‘amateur’ choir
members sing on a volunteer basis.
5 Grace Davie, Religion in Britain: A Persistent Paradox (Hoboken: Wiley, 2015), 78.
6 Liz Przybylski describes ‘hybrid ethnography’ as ethnographic field research that
takes place both online and offline, in which the researcher ‘must sift through large
quantities of data and media’ in addition to embodied observation at a physical
field site. Liz Przybylski, Hybrid Ethnography: Online, Offline, and In Between
(London: Sage Publications, 2020).
7 Mellonee Burnim, ‘Culture Bearer and Tradition Bearer: An Ethnomusicologist’s
Research on Gospel Music,’ Ethnomusicology 29, no. 3 (1985): 432–47, https://doi.
org/10.2307/851798.
8 Jonathan P. J. Stock and Chou Chiener, ‘Fieldwork at Home: European and Asian
Perspectives,’ in Shadows in the Field: New Perspectives for Fieldwork in Ethno-
musicology, ed. Gregory Barz and Timothy J. Cooley (New York: Oxford Uni-
versity Press, 2008), 108–24.
9 Nancy Tatom Ammerman, Everyday Religion: Observing Modern Religious Lives
(Oxford; Oxford University Press, 2007); Meredith B. McGuire, Lived Religion
Faith and Practice in Everyday Life (Oxford: University Press, 2008); Nancy Tatom
Ammerman, Sacred Stories, Spiritual Tribes: Finding Religion in Everyday Life
(New York: OUP, 2013).
10 Kim Knibbe and Helena Kupari, ‘Theorizing Lived Religion: Introduction,’ Journal
of Contemporary Religion 35, no. 2 (May 3, 2020): 166.
11 The survey instrument separated race, religion, and age into further subcategories
(see Appendix 1). The racial/ethnic categories were informed by UK Census cate-
gories. The further breakdown of Black ethnicity, for instance, included Black
British: African, Black British: Caribbean, and Black British: Other. Religion was
subdivided into the major world religions (Islam, Hinduism, etc.) as well as Chris-
tian traditions including Catholic, Church of England, Free Church (Baptist,
Methodist, etc.), and Pentecostal/charismatic.
12 Based on conversations with choir directors about participant demographics, as
well as participant-observation within several of the choirs represented in the
survey, responses from community choirs seem to skew white, older, and Christian.
Of a small choir made up overwhelmingly of white women pensioners from
rural Cornwall, for instance, over 80% of members responded to the survey; by
contrast, fewer than 20% of Bristol’s more diverse Renewal Choir members
responded. The inclusion of several university-affiliated gospel choirs led to a
robust response in the 18–24-year-old demographic group. The racial demo-
graphic of the university age demographic was 43% Black, 43% white, 7%
Asian, and 7% other.
13 Bithell, A Different Voice, a Different Song.
14 For close examinations of ways gospel overlaps and informs these ‘secular’ styles,
see Jerma A. Jackson, Singing in My Soul: Black Gospel Music in a Secular Age
(Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2004); Teresa L. Reed, The Holy
Profane: Religion in Black Popular Music (Lexington, Ky: The University Press of
Kentucky, 2003).
15 Only five respondents mention live performances of professional choirs as the
source of their first encounter with gospel music. Four out of five mention the same
choir: the London Community Gospel Choir (LCGC). For more information about
the historical background and significance of LCGC, see Meade, Bazil (with Jan
Greenough). A Boy, a Journey, a Dream: The Story of Bazil Meade and the London
Community Gospel Choir (London: Monarch Books, 2011).
16 This list was created using the text data mining tool Voyant, which filtered out
common stopwords (and, but, the, etc.). A custom list of stopwords was added that
included ‘gospel,’ ‘sing/s/ing,’ ‘choir,’ and ‘music.’
17 Geraldine Latty Luce, interview by author, London, 25 July 2018.
18 GSS 2018, emphasis mine.
19 Nancy T. Ammerman, ‘Spiritual But Not Religious? Beyond Binary Choices in the
Study of Religion,’ Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 52, no. 2 (2013): 258–78.
20 Ammerman, ‘Spiritual But Not Religious?’, 268.
21 Kim Samuels, interview by author, Bristol, 4 July 2018.
22 Clarence Hunte, interview by author, London, 2 June 2019.
23 Jo Sercombe, interview by author, Bath, 17 July 2018.
24 Emma Smallwood, interview by author, Bristol, 9 July 2018.
25 Paul Gilroy, Postcolonial Melancholia (New York: Columbia University Press, 2004).
26 See for instance Katharine Tyler, ‘The Suburban Paradox of Conviviality and
Racism in Postcolonial Britain,’ Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 43, no. 11
(August 18, 2017): 1890–1906, https://doi.org/10.1080/1369183X.2016.1245607, Tariq
Jazeel, ‘Review Essay: Spectres of Tolerance: Living Together beyond Cosmopoli
tanism:,’ Cultural Geographies 14, no. 4 (October 1, 2007): 617–24, https://doi.org/
10.1177/1474474007082298; Amanda Wise and Selvaraj Velayutham, ‘Conviviality in
Everyday Multiculturalism: Some Brief Comparisons between Singapore and
Sydney,’ European Journal of Cultural Studies 17, no. 4 (August 1, 2014): 406–30,
https://doi.org/10.1177/1367549413510419; Andrew Brandel, ‘The Art of Con
viviality,’ HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory 6, no. 2 (September 1, 2016): 323–43,
https://doi.org/10.14318/hau6.2.020.
Appendix 1. Gospel Stories Survey

(Version 1, administered July–September 2018)
1 In what city, town, or village do you reside?

2 What is the name of the gospel choir in which you currently sing?
3 How long have you sung in a gospel choir?
4 What is your age?
5 What is your gender?
� Man
� Woman
� Non-binary
Choose the option(s) below that best describe your ethnic background.
(The categories below are adapted from the UK Office for National Statistics.)
a Asian/Asian British
Indian
Pakistani
Bangladeshi
Chinese
Any other Asian background
b Black/Black British
African
Caribbean
Any other Black/African/Caribbean background
c White
English/Welsh/Scottish/Northern Irish/British
Irish
Gypsy or Irish Traveller
Any other White background
d Other ethnic group
e What is your religion?

Buddhism
Christianity – Catholic
Christianity – Church of England
Christianity – Free Church (Baptist, Methodist, etc)
Christianity – Pentecostal/charismatic
Hinduism
Islam
Judaism
Sikhism
Other religion
No religion
f Where did you first encounter gospel music?
g What were the reasons you decided to join a gospel choir?
h What is your favorite gospel choir song, and why?
i 10. Describe what gospel music means to you. Feel free to give examples
of why it carries those meanings.
j 11. How does singing in a gospel choir affect you or your community?
(For instance, does it affect you socially, spiritually, emotionally,
physically…?)
k 12. Did you watch the Kingdom Choir’s performance of gospel at the
Royal Wedding? Select all that apply.
No.
Yes, I watched it live.
Yes, I watched a recording afterwards.
l 13. If yes, what were your thoughts about the performance?
m 14. What makes British gospel choirs similar to gospel choirs elsewhere in
the world? What makes them different or unique?
References
Ammerman, Nancy T. ‘Spiritual But Not Religious? Beyond Binary Choices in the
Study of Religion.’ Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 52, no. 2 (2013): 258–
278. https://doi.org/10.1111/jssr.12024.
Ammerman, Nancy Tatom. Everyday Religion: Observing Modern Religious Lives.
Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007.
Ammerman, Nancy Tatom. Sacred Stories, Spiritual Tribes: Finding Religion in Every-
day Life. New York: Oxford University Press, 2013. https://doi.org/10.1093/acprof:
oso/9780199896448.001.0001.
Bithell, Caroline. A Different Voice, a Different Song: Reclaiming Community through
the Natural Voice and World Song. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014.
Brandel, Andrew. ‘The Art of Conviviality.’ HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory 6,
no. 2 (1 September2016): 323–343. https://doi.org/10.14318/hau6.2.020.
Burnim, Mellonee. ‘Culture Bearer and Tradition Bearer: An Ethnomusicologist’s
Research on Gospel Music.’ Ethnomusicology 29, no. 3 (1985): 432–447. https://doi.
org/10.2307/851798.
Davie, Grace. Religion in Britain: A Persistent Paradox. Hoboken: Wiley, 2015.
Francis, Roy N. How to Make Gospel Music Work for You: From the Music of the
Windrush Generation to Present Day Gospel. Croydon, Surrey: Filament Publishing,
2019.
Gilroy, Paul. Postcolonial Melancholia. Columbia University Press, 2004.
Jackson, Jerma A. Singing in My Soul: Black Gospel Music in a Secular Age. Chapel
Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2004.
Jazeel, Tariq. ‘Review Essay: Spectres of Tolerance: Living Together beyond Cosmopo
litanism.’ Cultural Geographies 14, no. 4 (October 12007): 617–624. https://doi.org/10.
1177/1474474007082298.
Knibbe, Kim, and Helena Kupari. ‘Theorizing Lived Religion: Introduction.’ Journal of
Contemporary Religion 35, no. 2 (May 32020): 157–176. https://doi.org/10.1080/
13537903.2020.1759897.
McGuire, Meredith B. Lived Religion Faith and Practice in Everyday Life. Oxford:
Britain.’ Ph.D. Dissertation, University of Birmingham, 2014.
Meade, Bazil (with Jan Greenough). A Boy, a Journey, a Dream: The Story of Bazil
Meade and the London Community Gospel Choir. London: Monarch Books, 2011.
Przybylski, Liz. Hybrid Ethnography: Online, Offline, and In Between. London: Sage
Publications, 2020.
Reed, Teresa L. The Holy Profane: Religion in Black Popular Music. Lexington, Ky: The
Sound. Oxford: Monarch Books, 2009.
Stock, Jonathan P. J., and Chou Chiener. ‘Fieldwork at Home: European and Asian
Perspectives.’ In Shadows in the Field: New Perspectives for Fieldwork in Ethnomu
sicology, edited by Gregory Barz and Timothy J. Cooley, pp. 108–124. New York:
Tyler, Katharine. ‘The Suburban Paradox of Conviviality and Racism in Postcolonial
Britain.’ Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 43, no. 11 (August 182017): 1890–
1906. https://doi.org/10.1080/1369183X.2016.1245607.
Wise, Amanda, and Selvaraj Velayutham. ‘Conviviality in Everyday Multiculturalism:
Some Brief Comparisons between Singapore and Sydney.’ European Journal of Cul
tural Studies 17, no. 4 (August 12014): 406–430. https://doi.org/10.1177/
1367549413510419.
4 Black British Gospel Music
A Perspective from a Reluctant Choir
Director
Geraldine Latty-Luce
Introduction
Gospel music is a space for spiritual encounter, whether it is sung inside
churches or within the community. This chapter examines the intriguing rela-
tionship between the songs and the stories connected to gospel music through
the eyes of a reluctant community gospel choir director. Drawing from my
own work of nearly 30 years as a gospel choir director (in schools, universities,
and various communities), as well as from scholarly accounts within con-
gregational music studies and community music-making, I will share my
observations around the experiences of religious and non-religious members
who came to gospel choir rehearsals through re-narrating the stories they
shared regarding what gospel meant to them and how they used gospel music
in their daily lives. Through these accounts, I will demonstrate how gospel
community choirs can be places for spiritual encounters as powerful (or per-
haps more so) as encounters some choir members experienced in Sunday
church services.
The observations and insights presented throughout this chapter are groun-
ded in my own experience as a Black British Christian. I begin the chapter by
narrating significant moments in my story, explaining my path to becoming a
‘reluctant choir director.’ Then I turn to examining how gospel mediates
spiritual encounter, drawing on accounts from members of various choirs I
have led in the UK, employing theologians and scholars as conversation part-
ners for interpreting them. I will then describe the power of gospel song to
provide vocabulary in times of transition and, even in life and death experi-
ences (such as illness, depression, suicide, and funerals), provide a soundtrack
for even the most ineffable human experience.
Gospel Choirs and my own Story: Two Recollections

Before examining gospel as a key component of others’ narratives, it is helpful
firstly to highlight how gospel music is intertwined into my own story. I grew
up in a family in which music was important as a way of being together, as
well as for prayer. I recall my mother on an organ harmonium (complete with
84 Geraldine Latty-Luce
foot pedal bellows) and my father plucking melodies on his banjo, usually in
the evenings, as they both sang short choruses or hymns from ‘Sacred Songs
and Solos,’ compiled by Sankey.1 Those evenings hold the earliest memories I
have of learning to sing in harmony. The expressive candour of words sup-
ported by the melancholy of evocative melodies and plaintive harmonic
accompaniment began, even in its simplicity, to link the unique hope-filled
sound with wistful longing and story.
My earliest encounter with any choir experience was as a three-year-old in
the mid-60s, singing in the church choir that my mother conducted; it was
there I learned to improvise and absorb (even if unwittingly) the sounds of that
choir community. I remember two things. I remember those choir sounds,
especially when they erupted from our packed living room on choir rehearsal
night. I still think back to sitting at the top of the stairs listening to the har-
monies, the shouts, the laughter, mum ‘lining out’ the songs to sol-fa and those
explosive moments when you knew the choir had connected in one synergetic
moment with the song as the tone changed, dynamics increased, ‘Hallelujahs’
were chorused as ‘the Spirit was moving.’ How that choir sang!
But I also remember quite clearly that I didn’t want to be a choir director.
My reluctance was informed by a disconnect between gospel music and the
music I felt belonged to me. As a child, my listening preferences were shaped
by African-American artists like Mahalia Jackson, the Blind Boys of Alabama
and Sister Rosetta Tharpe but also by white-American country artists like the
Chuck Wagon Gang, Johnny Cash and Hank Williams. But I would never
reach for the LP to put it on, nor would I be found humming any of the
melodies. This was my parents’ music. It was their song.
As I grew older, I heard additional waves of gospel music that built on the
foundation of these classic artists. Consummate African-American artists like
Walter and Tramaine Hawkins, Shirley Caesar, Jessy Dixon and the Clark
Sisters, whose sound, resonating with the energy of drums and bass, even on
slow ballads, contributed to this dynamic burgeoning sound. Then entered the
Andraé Crouch generation closely followed by the then ground-breaking songs
of Kirk Franklin, Hezekiah Walker, and Yolanda Adams, who, with soaring
vocal dexterity, tight-knit dynamic harmonies, and syncopated polyrhythms
ushered in a revolutionary and liberating sound of contemporary gospel music
which left an indelible mark on gospel choirs’ historical development in the
UK.2
The gospel scene in the UK may not have been as loudly broadcast as it was
in the States, but it most certainly had something to say and a reason to sing,
with its confident artists and vibrant sound, whether that was in the concert
arena or routinely and gloriously subversively taking place, week by week in
local, mainly Black Pentecostal churches. Steve McGregor’s and Dalton Kerr’s
choir Re:Mission was founded in 1974, and with other choirs and vocal groups
like Maxine and the Majestic Singers, London Adventist Chorale, Noel
Robinson and Nu Image, Bazil Meade and the London Community Gospel
Choir, these, together with sounds and songs coming from the African
Black British Gospel Music 85
American artists, strongly influenced my expectations of what singing and
performing in a gospel choir should sound like.
From my observations of these gospel greats over the years, it seemed to me
that any gospel choir performance needed to be full to bursting with non-stop
energy. It needed to have great vocalists and be accompanied by an out-
standing band. The songs needed to have highly energetic rhythmic dexterity,
extended chordal harmonies with interesting modulations, and there needed to
be a great soloist, and whether it was a ballad or up-tempo praise, there
needed to be an emotional connection which amounted to an experience of
God ‘moving,’ and of course, the choir needed to look slick, have ‘the moves’
and sound great.
This long list of expectations produced a counterproductive reaction in me.
Because, amongst other things, as a child of the ‘Windrush’ generation, I was
still in the process of working out who I was as a Black British woman, highly
self-conscious about my voice and having very little experience of leading a
gospel choir with even less ideas for repertoire. I felt that to attempt what I
had experienced in these aforementioned choir expressions would be tanta-
mount to being an imposter. A reluctance in me to lead any choir or vocal
group was being formed, and I carried this reticence to lead a gospel choir
through my years as a BA music undergraduate and on into my early years as
head of music at St Thomas More Catholic Secondary School (‘St Tom’s’) in
Bristol where even here at St Tom’s, while I provided extra-curricular musical
activities for orchestra, recorder and chorale groups, nothing came close to
looking like a gospel choir.
Two Musical Epiphanies: The Founding of two choirs—‘Rhythms’

Choir and the Gospel Generation Community Choir
During the mid-90s, and as a Head of Music at St Tom’s, it bothered me that
the students not yet involved in any musical activity were many of our Black,
Italian and Somali students. This led me to ask God for good ideas around
how I could involve these students. Around the same time, I was inspired—and
not a little intimidated by—the success of Whoopi Goldberg’s character,
cabaret singer Deloris Van Cartier in the film Sister Act 2: Back In The Habit
(1993) where posing as a nun the performer uses gospel music to make a
community out of ‘problem’ students.
Life doesn’t often imitate art in such a straightforward way, but I am
inclined to agree with the Will Gompertz comment that ‘there is no such thing
as a wholly original idea. But there is such a thing as unique combinations
which take place in the mind’s eye.’3 It is hard to recollect when I responded to
the perhaps obvious question, ‘Geraldine, why don’t you run a school gospel
choir?’ with ‘OK, I’ll give it a try,’ but I do know that this moment of
epiphany was couched in emphatic ‘God, help me!’ prayers.
The result was my first gospel choir, ‘Rhythms,’ begun in 1993. As I walked
back to my classroom for that very first Wednesday rehearsal, I was astonished
to see the room filled with over 40 students, many of whom had no previous
experience of how to sing in a choir or how to rehearse or prepare for a per-
formance. Several were bemused as to why they needed to rehearse the same
song the following week. Some of these students had been expelled from other
schools or had never really found a place at St Toms. For them and for all the
singers, this modest timeframe of a 35-minute lunchtime rehearsal was an
opportunity for students to explore and find their voice, to express their sound
in a safe place and to be encouraged by other students they wouldn’t ordinarily
connect with as together, they helped shape the choir story.
The ‘Rhythms’ choir ran for another seven years until I left St Toms, and
while we gave numerous performances on radio, participated in joint school
projects and even sang in the larger concert venues in Bristol for city-wide
events, some of the most memorable and stirring performances were when I
saw these students (many of whom I knew faced hugely challenging situations
outside of school) sing in front of their peers. I was beginning to see, although
not able to articulate fully, that ‘something happened’ when ‘Rhythms’ sang.
There was a blossoming, a unifying and what I’d describe now, and if only
in those moments, as an affirming, transformational experience for each of
the singers with a noticeable impact on the audience. The smiles and the
conversations following our performances re-sounded the story.
Alongside my developing experience with ‘Rhythms,’ I was also running a
number of ‘pop up’ choir workshops. ‘Pop-up’ choirs, or ‘Scratch Choirs’ as
they are also known, were made popular by the ‘Messiah From Scratch’ choir
productions where any singer, whether they were part of a choir or not, could
spend a day rehearsing Handel’s Messiah and perform it to an audience that
same evening.
Even after running these occasional sessions, I managed to successfully avoid
setting up a permanent, regular choir. I was convinced that I didn’t have a
suitable repertoire when compared to what other gospel choirs were doing,
and this was confirmed in my mind, knowing of another compelling gospel
choir director in Bristol. All I had that could be considered ‘gospel’ music was
one song called ‘Hold On.’4 This song I hadn’t even heard ‘live,’ but I had, in
fact, transcribed it from a cassette recording of another choir singing ‘Hold
On’ at a conference. It wasn’t ‘funky’ and, with four repeated lines, did not
contain much lyrical content, and there were no dramatic rhythms or soaring
melodies enough to contribute to an extensive choir repertoire, in my opinion.
With quiet deliberation, another layer of reluctance was added.
However, the space of three years after leaving St Toms and ‘Rhythms’
choir was notable for the insistent encouragement of a friend and my church
leader at Cairns Road in Bristol, Mike Pears, whose creative ideas for one-off
community days and festivals provided an ideal environment for me to realise
my second ‘epiphany.’ It came with a clear sense of what my role would look
like in potentially running a choir, not as a one-off ‘pop-up’ event but with
impetus and vision to make it a regular occurrence. The song ‘Hold On’ that
I’d dismissed as inadequate before, I now knew was enough to start the first
rehearsal, and I also knew it would be important to work with a team, so
I asked a few students to help with administration, leading warm-ups and
providing a welcome.
Thus, armed with my solitary song, and meeting in our church hall one
Tuesday evening in 2003, Gospel Generation Community Choir (GGCC) was
formed based on the following principles:
� It was to be an eight-week course in the Christmas term and Easter term,

while the Summer term was left open for us to ‘give our music away’, i.e.
to perform at festivals, family occasions or local events suggested by the
choir members.
� There was always to be at least one concert performance at the end of each
eight-week course or term. It was important to me that, as a choir, we
always had a concert performance in sight.
� It was open to all people whether or not they thought they could sing.
� It was for all-comers whether people described themselves as church or
non-church
� All the songs would be taught by-ear (sometimes called learning by rote)
� It would be a place to sing gospel, or good news songs, which meant I
would be intentionally looking for songs that carried good news or king
dom messages of justice, joy, perseverance etc, whether they were in hymn
books or in pop charts.
� It was to be for the generations (all ages, all people).
� It was to be a community that was also a choir.
In those early days of leading GGCC, discoveries like the ‘week seven jitters’
phenomenon (otherwise known as the ‘are we really going to be ready to per
form these songs by the concert in week eight!’) caused me to develop two
essential practices. Firstly, I needed to design a rehearsal programme in both
repertoire and workflow, structuring rehearsals in a way that balanced comfort
and ‘stretch’ for the singers over the eight-week course. Shorter songs, ‘perfor
mance ready’ at the end of one rehearsal, were placed alongside more complex
material that required the full course for us to work through. Secondly, I
needed to quickly learn how to support and ‘release’ my team. How to
encourage them to actively take ownership across the differing areas in run
ning a choir, from teaching songs (which included mentoring into leadership,
those who had never conducted a group of singers or even sung in public
previously), running the choir warm-ups, keeping the choir connected
through administration or bringing the smile of welcome at the door.
Coaching others into leading GGCC became an essential formation value
for me and Emma Smallwood and Naomi Cavanagh, two White British
women in their 20s and 30s, were singers who quickly showed potential for
leadership. My time at GGCC was immensely enriched because Emma and
Naomi brought song suggestions and concert ideas, unique perspectives and
reflections and, along with allowing me to mentor them, invested the gift of
their time and talents in leading and rehearsing, listening to and encouraging
singers in GGCC.5
This journal of my awakening into leading a gospel choir, while hugely
enriching for me in terms of practical and even administrative formation,
began to frame a context for an evolving and unexpected occurrence. It
appeared that even in life-and-death experiences, for some of these singers, an
unpretentious yet candid narrative was developing. Connections were being
made as singers; these ordinary, everyday people from a wide variety of back-
grounds began to identify with the power of gospel song. To say that gospel
song had an energy or engine with power enough to re-set the imaginations of
these singers might seem unqualified at best and even arrogant at this early
stage in my leadership, but the singers’ situations and stories were not waiting
for my critique, reasoning or experiential wisdom to catch up. The singers
were way ahead of my expectations as they expressed tangible encounter and,
at times, even visceral, spiritual experience in direct response to the gospel
songs we were singing.
Gospel Choirs as Sites for Spiritual Experiences: Providing Vocabulary

in Times of Transition
The GGCC had been running for about five years when I began to encounter
stories through letters, conversations and emails where singers talked about
how they connected with the songs and, in every case, how they had made the
songs their own. It began to dawn on me that a particular narrative was being
repeated in conversations with these singers that invariably started with the
sentence ‘You don’t know this, but…’ To illustrate, I will recount a particularly
poignant moment from the end of a rehearsal in 2012.
One early spring evening at the end of another GGCC rehearsal tucked
away in the North of Bristol, the noise of metal chair legs scraping across the
floor as singers stacked their chairs was intermingled with animated conversa-
tions from small groups clustered around the room while others waved their
goodbyes. The choir was dispersing for the evening. As I stood near the door,
one of the singers, Faye, asked if she could speak with me. We found a quiet
spot near one of the windows, and this dignified, older lady who spoke with
soft and measured tones began to unfold a part of her story that I will never
forget. ‘You don’t know this, but I have been doubly bereaved over the last 14
months, but when we sing “no more dying there,”6 I feel it here…’ she said,
jabbing at her chest with tears in her eyes.
Hearing Faye’s story was impactful and caught me off-guard for a number
of reasons. Firstly, she wasn’t telling me this in the excitement and fanfare
following a concert but relayed her story after another ‘run-of-the-mill’ choir
rehearsal on a Wednesday evening. In addition, I hadn’t heard her talk about
her double bereavement before this moment, the second bereavement happen-
ing only three months prior to our conversation. The shock of hearing this and
her emotional yet gentle retelling was heart-breaking. We wept together.
Finally, in quoting ‘No More Dying There,’ Faye was talking about a song
I’d used at numerous events like street parties, choir warm-ups and at high
school workshops because the words are accessible and the harmonies are
quick to learn, but for the first time I was hearing someone speak of the song,
and here I struggle to bring an appropriate description, as if it were the only
thing that mattered in her story in that moment. It seemed that as she sang ‘No
More Dying There,’ she was able to anchor her story in hope. Something in
her imagination had been activated, and this, for her and most certainly for
me, drew us into a scenario where a fuelled imagination and subversive hope,
as Brueggemann suggests, defiantly stated that ‘the present [event] to which we
have all made commitments, is now called into question.’7
And Faye was far from the only choir member with a similar story. Other
examples from these years included the following:
You don’t know this, but…
‘My son, who isn’t a Christian, led us in “Great is He”, the 3-part Easter
round he’d rehearsed with GGCC, as we gathered with family around my
husband’s (and his father’s) graveside.’
Mavis, (67) Bristol, England.
‘I’ve been a victim of abuse by a church leader’, a GGCC singer in her mid
20s wrote in her Christmas card to me. ‘I know I’m not a Christian,’ she
said, ‘but at every rehearsal I feel hope is in the room.’
‘I haven’t sung since my teenage son died 2 years ago…’, middle-aged

singer Caleb tells me at the end of our final rehearsal of the choir course,
‘…but at the concert tomorrow when we’ll sing “You give and take away’
from ‘Blessed be the name”8 this will be the song of the night for me.’
“I’m pregnant!” Veronica in the audience, bubbles with joy chatting to me

at the end of one of our GGCC concerts, (she’d left the choir a few years
earlier) now shows me she is six months pregnant and says that while she
was in GGCC it was the songs that supported her in her childless years.
Sandra from GGCC, writing a direct message on Facebook, says, ‘I so

appreciate your song “The Sun Will Rise,”9 and the sun did rise’ (referring to
being reunited with her family).
The singers who generously shared their experiences with me (all names
altered for privacy) were equipping me with an important insight; in the
growing cascade of stories, it became clear to me that gospel music provided a
vocabulary for these singers in some of life’s most devastating situations.
Gospel music, in this context, articulated hope for those in bleak situations
allowing singers to simultaneously experience yet transcend deep emotional
pain, seeking to provide foundations for a healthy grieving process for those
who were bereaved.
Sometimes this ‘vocabulary’ that gospel music provided was a language of
meaning communicated without words. It was a particular privilege to wel-
come the invaluable presence of vulnerable adults in GGCC, some who had
never spoken a word in their entire lives, yet their physical expressions and
reactions to this gospel sound were profoundly meaningful. I remember Jake
grinning broadly with irrepressible joy at the end of his solo, Jake who was
told that he would ‘never amount to much,’ here, takes a bow after leading the
choir in transparent delight or, on another occasion as I was conducting the
choir from the stage, 17-year-old Miriam walks deliberately to join me on the
stage. Miriam is generally unable to communicate using words, yet as I sang
‘Only You Are Holy,’10 she stood tall beside me, and I would suggest in quiet
reverence, her actions speaking a more eloquent word. In their reactions to the
songs, these vulnerable adults mentored to me and to others in GGCC ways to
respond. They demonstrated an embodiment that went far beyond words to
light up our perceptions, demonstrating the paradox of wordless vocabulary
or, to put it another way, illustrating in outward expression what was deeply
ingrained in their story.
All of these stories, including those of Faye, Jake, Caleb and the many
others I was honoured to hear, suggest that not only does gospel or ‘good
news’ music provide a vocabulary for life’s transitions, but it also has the
unique ability to kindle the imagination. As the next section highlights, gospel
music and its capacity to inspire is grounded in the music’s history as the
outcry of an oppressed people.
Gospel Music and the Spiritual Imagination

In addition to giving vocabulary in the face of the ineffable, I will discuss how
gospel songs have the power to kindle and even reset our imaginations. His-
tory tells us of the brutal, dehumanising oppression of African enslaved people
around the world, but it also tells us of how, in America, a musical form
developed to promote communal empowerment, dignity and resistance. Wil-
liam Farley Smith calls them ‘slave songs,’ a label that describes their origin
among the enslaved people and ‘recalls their suffering and resistance.’11 In her
paper,12 Dulcie Dixon McKenzie notes Melva Wilson Costen’s insight that
Spirituals provide a record of the history, beliefs, and values that African
people hold collectively in their memory.13
McKenzie makes additional reference to Anthony B. Pinn, who helpfully
summarises that the Spirituals ‘narrated the community’s collective physical
and psychological experience and development.’14
This collective of both memory and experience offered a valuable perspective
to choir workshops and rehearsals that I conducted. For while, nobody in these
rehearsals or workshops, as far as I was aware, would have experienced bar
baric slavery; it became apparent that analogies could be made to link gospel
music’s story to each individual’s story. James Wood, the literary critic, states
that ‘when we tell a story, although we may hope to teach a lesson, our pri
mary objective is to produce an imaginative experience.’15 Like converging
streams to a watershed, this flow of imagination alongside song and story
became a defining moment for me in the context of leading choirs and, of
course, leading GGCC.
Yet, I felt a tension between two vital stories here. On the one hand not
wishing to trivialise the atrocities of the Atlantic Slave Trade, but on the other,
neither did I wish to minimalise the experiences, histories and backgrounds of
GGCC singers in each rehearsal, so I chose to go via the way of the Bible story
of Moses and the Children of Israel and their liberation from Egypt. This
monumental story significant in ‘the Abrahamic faiths’ (Islam, Judaism, and
Christianity), bears the hallmarks of inhumane and seemingly endless oppres
sion, a cry of the enslaved to God, and holding out under extremely harsh and
brutal demands, the dramatic and salvific deliverance of a people set free to
worship God, and the resulting song of freedom.16
As I heard stories and read the letters and cards from singers over the years,
it seemed through this Exodus narrative, in particular, imaginations were being
stirred, fired if you will. People who had experienced abuse now felt ‘hope in
the room,’ while others who could not be persuaded to go on an Alpha course17
were spontaneously leading family and friends in sung worship at funerals. Still
others intimated to me that even when singing happy or up-tempo songs in
GGCC rehearsals and concerts (and in stark contrast to singing the same or
similar songs ‘in church on Sundays’) the sentiment in GGCC context felt per
tinent to their situations and in their words ‘not fake’ or ‘hyped up.’
The relationship between imagination and reality is expounded in Bruegge
mann’s The Prophetic Imagination. 18 He sets the scene for the power of ima
gination by quoting from the Lawrence Thornton novel, Imagining Argentina,
19
which explores themes around the horror of torture and the effectiveness of
the Eucharist in that context. The main character Carlos Rueda does not hold
to his captors’ view, who see the conflict ‘between imagination and the real,’20
but instead, Carlos sees the conflict as ‘between two types of imagination,’21
that of his captors, ‘the generals’22 and that of the enslaved or ‘their
opponents.’23
William T Cavanaugh reflecting on this in his book ‘Torture and the
Eucharist’24 concludes that ‘to refer to torture as “the imagination of the
state” is obviously not to deny the reality of torture,’25 but he offers what he
describes as an ‘odd claim’26 that to be involved in another story, another
imagination, and here he is explicitly referring to the Eucharist, is to ‘live
inside God’s imagination. It is to be caught up into what is really real… [and
resists] the state’s ability to define what is real through the mechanism of
torture.’27
This intriguing reflection in Brueggemann’s book has brought a pivotal
insight and remains an ongoing influence for me, affecting the way I lead choir
rehearsals, concerts, and workshops, not least because it acknowledges that
struggles and lament exist, and, with a quiet, provocative encouragement,
invites us to explore how to connect with songs in a way that genuinely
develops intelligent imagination for the singer and the hearer alike. This
kindling of the imagination seemed to draw people in and provide a sound-
track for the variety of experiences across the choir.
Kindling The Spiritual Imagination: Isaiah 61 And ‘This Is Not It!’

There were two characteristics that had a bearing on how I sought to cultivate
this spiritual imagination in my leadership of GGCC and included firstly,
sharing with my team leaders, the forthright claims found in the opening verses
of Isaiah 61, which constituted my vision and shaped the ethos for GGCC:
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord has anointed us to bring good

news to the poor,
to bind up the broken-hearted and bring recovery of sight to the blind,
to speak pardon to the prisoner and release to the captives,
to declare that this is the year of the Lord’s favour
and the day of God’s vengeance on God’s enemies.28
Like a clarion call and through a series of contrasting scenarios, this passage
presents a vision of a new world where the poor are empowered with good
news and transforming consolation resembles the work of a liberator. It feels
like careful healing to the ‘broken-hearted’ and sounds like reprieve for the
prisoner. Subsequent verses further stipulate that these people will actively
work to ‘rebuild’ and ‘repair’ in a reality where those who mourn are given a
new identity as established as magnificent oak trees.29 I remember the first time
I mentioned this in our team leader meetings and the concern I felt about not
simply employing a fashionable vision statement using Isaiah 61, but seeking to
provide a space in GGCC for ‘binding up the broken hearted…speaking free-
dom to the captives…offering the oil of joy for mourning.’30 Was it possible to
be part of a choir that nurtured this environment? Could we lead a choir
where these transformations took place?
The second formative characteristic was in my use of the ‘this is not it!’
phrase which I remember emerged one evening as I was rehearsing the spiritual
‘Steal Away’31 with GGCC. The lyrics follow here:
Refrain: Steal away, steal away, steal away to Jesus!

Steal away, steal away home,
I ain’t got long to stay here.
Verse 1: My Lord, He calls me,
He calls me by the thunder;
The trumpet sounds within my soul;
I ain’t got long to stay here. [Refrain]
Verse 2: Green trees are bending,
Poor sinners stand a trembling;
Verse 3: My Lord, He calls me,
He calls me by the lightning;
In the GGCC rehearsal and reflecting on the word ‘here’ from the phrase ‘I
ain’t got long to stay here,’ I suggested that perhaps for the enslaved who sang
that song, ‘here’ was the presence of the chains, the reality of oppression, the
loss, the humiliating degradation. ‘I may be in chains right now,’ I found
myself saying, ‘but this is not it.’ I went on to draw a few comparisons, ‘there
may be pain in my body or in others I’m concerned about, there may be diffi-
culties at my work, or financial issues, or fears around world affairs, but “this
is not it!”’ The headline from the ‘Steal Away’ spiritual strongly intimated that
there is another ‘here.’
This spontaneous and naïve comment in my early GGCC days has grown to
be one of the abiding principles of our rehearsals and, to this day, influences
my song choice and repertoire for choirs that I lead. By referencing the Moses
story and, in particular, the spirituals that came from that biblical account, I
began to explore the parallels with our experiences in GGCC.
Using those spirituals whose themes seemed to say ‘no’ to the current reality,
like ‘Swing Low,’32 or those that were deeply political in expression as they
subversively challenged the empire of the day as in ‘Go down Moses’33 or
singing spirituals that lamented the closeness of pain as in ‘Nobody Knows,’34
seemed to present an alternative reality that announced, ‘I may be in loss or
struggle right now, but this is not it!’ As Brueggemann asserts, ‘Hope is not a
late, tacked-on hypothesis to serve a crisis [but] is first about an alternative
future…that has its beginning in the promising speech of God.’35
In ‘You Are What You Love’, James K. A. Smith characterises our imagi-
nation as ‘aesthetic organs [and] our hearts like stringed instruments that are
plucked by story, poetry, metaphor, images.’36 In GGCC, it seemed that the
Moses narrative, rich in both story and metaphor, expressed in the song of the
spirituals, enabled us as ‘stringed instruments’37 to make imaginative and
emotional connections between the ‘this is not it’ headline and our life
experiences with its, at times, degrading, oppressive environments or unjust
outcomes or physical or mental pain.
Wren, regarding his phrase ‘double meaning,’ posits, ‘God, who saved Israel
in the exodus, can overturn the death sentence on Jesus Christ.’38 His
mirroring of the account of Moses acting as God’s deliverer with that of Jesus
the great saviour-liberator is heard in the proliferation of freedom-themed
songs based on Jesus in the synoptic gospels early in the 20th century. In
GGCC, whether we were singing ‘My life is in your hands’ by Kirk Franklin or
‘You are Not Alone’ as sung by Michael Jackson, Wren’s ‘double meaning’ in
these and other good news, gospel songs, underscores a foundational truth in
the ‘this is not it’ headline.
This kind of talk might seem like an avoidance tactic or even a ‘happy
piety,’39 but singing an intense dislike or hostility for our oppressive circum-
stances or for ‘Egypt’ as stated in the Moses narrative is neither robust enough
or hopeful enough to fuel or re-set a new imagination, rather, hope that is
‘rooted in the assurance that God does not quit even when the evidence warrants
[God is] quitting,’40 is hope that has substance to ignite imagination.
A Caveat: Christian Imagination for a Non-Religious Choir Member?

To awaken imagination in this way and particularly in the context of a choir,
raises a number of questions for me; not least, is it sustainable? And, do I need
to be a Christian to have a hope so rooted in God? Part of my response to this
lies in pastor and theologian Mark Pierson’s assertion that ‘it’s not my role [as
choir director] to decide how the Spirit of God will work transformatively in a
person’s life.’41
But the questions remain as I recall Faye telling me about her double
bereavement. What is the activity in her imagination that for her transcends
the reality of her tragic circumstances? For a woman longing for motherhood,
how did GGCC gospel songs aid her in the waiting? For the victim of abuse,
how was it that despite her experience of predatory maltreatment she can still
feel ‘hope in the room’? For the father mourning the loss of his teenage son
and now able to sing ‘you give and take away,’ what has so transformed him
to sing these words with authenticity?
This email from Cynth to me and Carey (my husband), resonates with the
views above (All Cynth’s syntax, grammar and spelling is left as originally
written, reflecting her unfiltered response):42
i know you must know this – but it feels so strong in me that i have to try
and express it to you – the thing you do is wonderful. thank you so much
for sharing it. i feel so fortunate to have been able to take part in some of
it with you.
i have a strong spiritual practice that is not based in the judeo-christian
traditions – and your expressions of your love of and connection to god thru
song and music reached straight in to and all thru me in a way that felt like it
transcended all of the language and traditions and just was love. and it was
wondrous. so thank you. thank you both. you are both truly beautiful souls
and i was deeply touched by sharing that Saturday with you.
with love and deep deep appreciation 43
I discovered that Cynth and other singers who spoke of changes in their atti-
tudes, emotions and outlook were not asking if the effect would last or if it
was real; still others made it clear that they had no Christian faith, but it seems
that for all of them, the Spirit of God was working ‘transformatively’ as Pier-
son attests. There are, of course, other hugely important factors at play in each
rehearsal and concert, not least working with and mentoring team along with
showing hospitality and building community,44 but my point here is in regard
to the questions that can sometimes paralyse us from exploring the challenges
of awakening the imagination or that limit us to a series of empty routine
rehearsals for a select group of people, or indeed condition our expectations to
rely on our previous experiences.
A Second Caveat: Imagination or Mystification?

In affirming the value of stoking the imagination, are we in danger of
attributing to God what is simply a human response or reaction? Does
kindling the imaginations of individuals in choir actually work to change
anything in the seen world? Short of a miraculous God intervention, when
a singer leaves the choir rehearsal, the overdraft or loan is still owing; the
passive-aggressive bully is still at her workplace. Singing in choir hasn’t
changed what happened in her past, and she can still feel the pain in her
body. Does sparking new imaginations merely lead to false hope, resulting
in a manipulation or desensitising of her emotions? Can singing in a gospel
choir lead to real change?
The French sociologist Émile Durkheim cited by Miller and Yamamori,45
‘believed the social function of religious ritual is to reinforce in group members
minds, the values that unite them.’46 He is talking in particular about com-
munity and religion, but there may be resonances here in looking at the GGCC
community with its sung religious expressions of good news.
If Durkheim’s assertion is to be taken as a template for the experiences
encountered by those in GGCC, then, by implication, the singers were simply
reflecting the ‘collective values’ of the choir and while religion ‘had an impor-
tant function to play…’47 Durkheim maintains the ‘reality is not what religious
people think it is.’ Theologians Miller and Yamamori offer, I think, a more
balanced insight into these situations of how to interpret ‘spiritual’ phenom-
ena. Reflecting on how they initially laid out their mysterious or ‘supernatural
explanations’ as alternatives against ‘naturalistic explanations’ (of healing,
speaking in tongues and so on) they wonder if their approach was not bold
enough. They posit ‘a more radical suggestion [that] these are not alternative
explanations but maybe they are complementary explanations. Perhaps flesh
and spirit are intermingled.’48
Miller’s and Yanamori’s insight helps make sense, from a Christian theolo-
gical position, of the changes that occur in the lives of singers. Of these GGCC
accounts, which include singers who would not describe themselves as Chris-
tian, many, with whom I conversed, expressed real surprise that freedom or
peace of mind had come to them or that they felt a sense of belonging or had a
new-found ‘I can hold on for one more day’ tenacity as a part of their experi-
ence. Furthermore, for all of them, it appeared to be a genuine ‘this is how it is
now’ encounter. It felt real.
I wonder if these responses feel real, precisely because the specific dynamics,
some of which we mentioned earlier of, say, continuing debt, passive-aggres-
sive relationships or chronic pain, are now being ‘intermingled’49 through song
with the spirit as suggested by Miller and Yamamori.
Brueggemann puts a finer point on this, explaining that ‘without anguish the
new song is likely to be strident and just more royal fakery…’50 or, in our
GGCC context, blatant superficiality and musical charades. Perhaps ‘flesh and
spirit are [indeed] intermingled,’ the pain and the praise juxtaposed, heard and
seen, witnessed in the Bible story in women, men and children and not least in
the Incarnation of Jesus – God becoming human, and a God who now fully
knows and understands in the person of Jesus our emotions, fears, break-
throughs, struggles, joys and perseverance. This, with the numerous and
unique Bible references of God collaborating with and speaking to and through
humanity, with documented responses of deeply emotional and life-changing
accounts, affirms the experiences and story-telling of the GGCC singers and
further tallies with the Miller and Yamamori summary, ‘it would be a little
surprising for supernatural intervention not to be wrapped up in [human]
clothing.’51
Owning up to this reality of God at work in our humanity was a pivotal
moment for me and the GGCC leadership team. I well remember the first
team meeting where I mentioned a few stories from singers that were
beginning to surface and how it seemed to be in response to particular
songs. James K A Smith argues that ‘Christian worship needs to meet us as
aesthetic creatures who are moved more than we are convinced,’52 and
while Smith’s statement may leave caveats around the role that the mind
and other ‘intelligence’ plays, the observation around being ‘moved’ is
valuable, for in our GGCC team discussions, our desire to explore the
nature of how GGCC singers were responding to being moved by the songs
was becoming our focus.
Where confidentiality allowed, verbalising these stories in the privacy of our
team meetings helped me to externally process my observations in GGCC as to
the existence of pain as well as praise, the presence of lament as well as joy. As
a team, we discovered that GGCC singers seemed to relate to the story-filled,
accessible and mostly (but not exclusively) shorter songs, observing that emo-
tions, verbal responses and sometimes even physicality53 morphed a song from
routine rehearsal technique or a performance item in a concert to a ‘sound-
track’ for their lives.
Using repertoire that made space for the choir to express their story in
community that included songs of hope or petition, questions, lament and
doxology became my particular focus, aspiring to Smith’s thought-provoking yet
simply stated phrase, ‘worship that restores us is worship that re-stories us.’54
Mystery and Transcendence or ‘Deeper Magic’
This final clause opens up into the world of the unknowable, where it is
obvious that something is happening, but where explanation runs into silence,
or is seen in the nodding assent of quiet affirmation or as a ‘Yes!’ punched into
the air. It is what I suggest C. S. Lewis called a ‘deeper magic,’55 and after one
of my choir rehearsals, what singer D tried to articulate to me with amazement
and ‘what the?!? just happened’ expletives!
While the envisioning words from Isaiah 61 shaped and inspired my lea-
dership of GGCC,56 I cannot calculate or fully explain how singers’ imagi-
nations became ablaze with hope and promise, how lives were genuinely
and to my astonishment, transformed, but to indulge in a circular argu-
ment, I know now, that the little I know, informs me that I don’t know it
all!
In both Psalm 118:23 and Psalm 139:6, David echoes this in his uncompli-
cated responses, ‘The Lord has done this, and it is marvellous in our eyes’ and
‘It is too wonderful for me.’57 As I have shown, over and over I heard stories
from singers who experienced the power of songs in both lyrical meaning and
personal significance, but this invariably came with a sense of wonder, curios-
ity, astonishment, sometimes tears and, or laughter, mystery and a host of
other expressions. It is in these moments I have to ‘bow out’ and simply admit
that this is ‘too wonderful for me.’
Concluding Thoughts
The bare-faced reality of loss, lack or pain, coupled with the beauty and
pathos of singing together or singing alone, is in itself a remarkable sphere.
But, the power of the good news song to bring another imagination into
orbit, and where that imagination with lucid empathy challenges the given
situation, this has been one of the surprising twists and profound dis-
coveries in my role as a choir director in both Rhythms choir at St Thomas
More School and the Gospel Generation Community Choir. The realisation
of this different ‘imagination’ heard in accounts from both religious and
non-religious members of my choirs and during what some may describe as
rather routine and inconspicuous rehearsals, displays a paradox that I
treasure as one of God’s exceptional gifts and calls me, perhaps us, to the
‘practice of doxology’ as we witness ‘God right at the centre of a scene
from which we presumed [God] had fled.’58
Mark Pierson adds a telling perspective:
There can be no resurrection [transformation] without crucifixion (deaths

of one sort and size or another that generally come out of periods of crisis
or despair) and only at the point of crucifixion can grace kick in and do
her thing on behalf of God.59
I seek to embrace this different imagination, where the grace of God has indeed
‘kicked in’ and believe that as singers in GGCC, our experiences (including our
‘periods of crisis and despair’60) not only matter to God but re-sound the story
of grace infusing our lives and defining our song.
So, to conclude, I have sought to explain why I feel these adventures took
place, and where God interacting with us in GGCC and my other choirs was
at times tangible and truly storied.
As we sang these simple gospel songs in our rehearsals and performances,
each singer, it seemed, was handed an invitation to a glorious, mysterious yet
ordinary, everyday encounter with God.
This, for us in Rhythms Choir, in Gospel Generation Community Choir,
and for this reluctant choir director, was undeniably, life-changing ‘good
news.’61
Notes
1 Sacred Songs and Solos is a hymn collection compiled by Ira David Sankey,
who partnered Dwight Lyman Moody in a series of evangelical crusades from
1870 until Moody’s death in 1898. The collection first appeared in 1873, and
although popularly known as The Sankey-Moody Hymnbook, many of the tunes
and lyrics are by other authors, and the volume includes many standard church
hymns. Around 200 of the tunes were written or arranged by Sankey and it is
also one of the hymn books used frequently by Black Pentecostal Christians. Ira
D. Sankey, Sacred Songs and Solos (London: Morgan and Scott Ltd., 1909).
2 See Steve Smith, British Black Gospel: The Foundations of This Vibrant UK Sound
(UK: Monarch Books, 2009).
3 Will Gompertz, Think Like an Artist and Lead a More Creative, Productive Life
(United Kingdom: Penguin Books Ltd, 2016), 115.
4 The Williams Brothers, ‘Hold On God Will See You Through,’ track A1 on God
Will See You Through (New Birth Records, 1980).
5 It is with ongoing thankfulness to God and a testimony to Emma and Naomi that at
the time of writing, just over ten years since leaving Bristol and passing on the GGCC
leadership baton, GGCC has gone on to thrive in new adventures and under Emma’s
leadership, GGCC continues to grow even through what has been the ‘lockdown’
season of the coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic in 2020.
6 Andraé Crouch, ‘Soon and Very Soon,’ 1976.
7 Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic Imagination, 2nd ed. (Minneapolis: Augsburg
Fortress Press, 2001), 65.
8 Beth Redman and Matt Redman, ‘Blessed Be Your Name’ (Thankyou Music, 2002).
9 An original song collaboration with our Resound songwriting friends. ‘The Sun
Will Rise (You Who Fear the Lord)’ © Jo Doré, Judy Gresham, Carey Luce, Ger-
aldine Latty / Resound Worship, Administered by Jubilate Hymns Ltd CCL#
7067770. (See Appendix A1 for lyrics.)
10 See Appendix B for lyrics. Pastor Hooks, ‘Donnie McClurkin—Only You Are
Holy,’ YouTube, 2013. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3rNjA2dpOaQ.
11 Farley Smith cited in Brian Wren, Praying Twice: The Music and Words of
Congregational Song (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2000), 194.
12 Dulcie Dixon McKenzie, ‘Toward Teaching Black Theology through Black Gospel
Music in Great Britain,’ Discourse 8, no. 2 (2009): 127–171.
13 Melva Wilson Costen, In Spirit and in Truth – the Music of African American
Worship (London: Westminster John Knox Press, 2004), 11.
14 Anthony B. Pinn, Why Lord? Suffering and Evil in Black Theology (New York:
Continuum, 1995).
15 James Wood, How Fiction Works (New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2008).
16 The full account unfolds throughout the book of Exodus in the Bible, the initial
instructions explained in Exodus 3
17 Alpha, ‘Welcome to Alpha.’ https://www.alpha.org. Please note this is not a
demeaning sideswipe reflecting on the Alpha Course. There are numerous docu-
mented accounts of life-changing encounters for many people who have embarked
on this course.
18 Brueggemann, The Prophetic Imagination.
19 Lawrence Thornton, Imagining Argentina (New York: Doubleday, 1987).
20 William T. Cavanaugh, Torture and Eucharist: Theology, Politics, and the Body of
Christ (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 1998), 131 cited in, Walter Brueggemann, The
Prophetic Imagination, xix.
Christ.
Christ, 279.
Christ, 279.
28 From Isaiah 61:1–2, my paraphrase.
29 Isaiah 61:1–4; see Appendix A for full New International Version (NIV) reference.
30 Isaiah 61, my paraphrase.
31 ‘Steal Away’ an African American Spiritual. ‘Steal away, steal away to Jesus. I ain’t
got long to stay here’.
32 ‘Swing Low Sweet Chariot’ (see Appendix C for details of full text).
33 ‘Go Down Moses’ (see Appendix D for details of full text).
34 ‘Nobody Knows The Trouble I’ve Seen’ (see Appendix E for details of full text).
35 Brueggemann, The Prophetic Imagination, 64.
36 James K. A. Smith, You Are What You Love: The Spiritual Power of Habit (Grand
Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2016), 91.
37 Smith, You Are What You Love: The Spiritual Power of Habit, 91.
38 Wren, Praying Twice, 195.
41 Mark Pierson, The Art of Curating Worship: Reshaping the Role of the Worship
Leader (Minneapolis, MN: Sparkhouse Press, 2010), 110.
42 For this and for all quotes of my informal conversations, in addition to altering
names, I may have omitted or slightly altered certain other identifying details to
ensure anonymity.
43 Cynth, email correspondence with author and Carey.
44 See Mark Pierson, The Art of Curating Worship: Reshaping the Role of
the Worship Leader, for a fuller synopsis on growing community check
out Pierson’s ‘Building Community through Curation’. Some helpful insights
here.
45 Donald E. Miller and Tetsunao Yamamori, Global Pentecostalism: the new face of
Christian Social Engagement (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2007), 133.
46 Miller and Yamamori, Global Pentecostalism, 133.
47 Miller and Yammori, Global Pentecostalism, 133.
51 Miller and Yammori, Global Pentecostalism, 158 (my italics).
52 Smith, You Are What You Love, 91 (my italics).
53 I recall here, those memorable rehearsals and performances when we were mentored
and encouraged by singers in the GGCC community with additional needs, to connect
what we were singing to the movement in our bodies.
54 Smith, You Are What You Love, 95.
55 C.S. Lewis, ‘Deeper Magic from Before the Dawn of Time,’ in The Lion, the Witch
and the Wardrobe (London: Grafton/HarperCollins, 2002).
56 Isaiah 61:1–2
57 Psalm 118:23 and Psalm 139:6.
59 Pierson, The Art of Curating Worship, 110 (my italics)
60 Pierson, The Art of Curating Worship, 110.
61 Isaiah 61:1.
62 CCL# 7067770. © Jo Doré, Judy Gresham, Carey Luce, Geraldine Latty /
Resound Worship, Admin. by Jubilate Hymns Ltd. copy-
rightmanager@jubilatehymns.co.uk.
63 ‘Donnie McClurkin – Only You Are Holy.’ YouTube, 2013. https://www.youtube.
com/watch?v=3rNjA2dpOaQ.
64 Hymnary.org, ‘Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,’ Public Domain. https://hymnary.org/
text/i_looked_over_jordan_and_what_did_i_see.
65 Hymnary.org, ‘Go Down, Moses,’ Public Domain. https://hymnary.org/text/when_
israel_was_in_egypts_land.
66 Hymnary.org, ‘Nobody Knows the Trouble I See,’ Public Domain. https://hymnary.
org/text/sometimes_im_up_sometimes_im_down_oh_yes.
References
Alpha. ‘Welcome to Alpha.’ https://www.alpha.org.
Brueggemann, Walter. The Prophetic Imagination. 2nd Edition. Minneapolis: Augsburg
Fortress Press, 2001.
Cavanaugh, William T. Torture and Eucharist: Theology, Politics, and the Body of
Christ. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 1998.
Crouch, Andraé. ‘Soon and Very Soon.’ 1976.
Costen, Melva Wilson. In Spirit and in Truth – the Music of African American Wor-
ship. London: Westminster John Knox Press, 2004.
Gompertz, Will. Think Like an Artist: and lead a More Creative, Productive Life.
United Kingdom: Penguin Books Ltd, 2016.
Hooks, Pastor. ‘Donnie McClurkin – Only You Are Holy.’ YouTube, 2013. https://
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3rNjA2dpOaQ.
Hymnary.org. ‘Go Down, Moses.’ Public Domain. https://hymnary.org/text/when_isra
el_was_in_egypts_land.
Hymnary.org. ‘Nobody Knows the Trouble I See.’ Public Domain. https://hymnary.org/
text/sometimes_im_up_sometimes_im_down_oh_yes.
Hymnary.org. ‘Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.’ Public Domain. https://hymnary.org/text/i_
looked_over_jordan_and_what_did_i_see.
Latty, Geraldine. ‘The Sun Will Rise / You Who Fear The Lord’ © Geraldine Latty,
Carey Luce, Jo Doré, Judy Gresham / Resound Worship, Administered by Jubilate
Hymns Ltd. copyrightmanager@jubilatehymns.co.uk. CCL# 7067770.
Lewis, C.S. ‘Deeper Magic from Before the Dawn of Time.’ In The Lion, the Witch and
the Wardrobe. London: Grafton/HarperCollins, 2002.
McKenzie, Dulcie Dixon. ‘Toward Teaching Black Theology through Black Gospel
Music in Great Britain.’ Discourse 8, no. 2 (2009): 127–171.
Miller, Donald E. and Tetsunao Yamamori. Global Pentecostalism: the new face of
Christian Social Engagement. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2007.
Pierson, Mark. The Art of Curating Worship: Reshaping the Role of the Worship
Leader. Minneapolis, MN: Sparkhouse Press, 2010.
Pinn, Anthony B. Why Lord? Suffering and Evil in Black Theology. New York:
Continuum, 1995.
Redman, Beth and Matt Redman. ‘Blessed Be Your Name.’ Thankyou Music, 2002.
Sankey, Ira D. Sacred Songs and Solos. London: Morgan and Scott Ltd., 1909.
Smith, James K. A. You Are What You Love: The Spiritual Power of Habit. Grand
Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2016.
Smith, Steve. British Black Gospel: The Foundations of This Vibrant UK Sound. UK:
Monarch Books, 2009.
The Williams Brothers. ‘Hold On God Will See You Through.’ Track A1 on God Will
See You Through. New Birth Records, 1980.
Thornton, Lawrence. Imagining Argentina. New York: Doubleday, 1987.
Wood, James. How Fiction Works. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2008.
Wren, Brian. Praying Twice: The Music and Words of Congregational Song. Louisville,
KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2000.
APPENDICES
Appendix A
Isaiah 61 New International Version (NIV)
1
The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the broken-hearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
2
to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favour
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
3
and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord.
for the display of his splendour.
4
They will rebuild the ancient ruins
and restore the places long devastated;
they will renew the ruined cities
that have been devastated for generations.
5
Strangers will shepherd your flocks;
foreigners will work your fields and vineyards.
6
And you will be called priests of the LORD,
you will be named ministers of our God.
You will feed on the wealth of nations,
and in their riches you will boast.
7
Instead of your shame
you will receive a double portion,
and instead of disgrace
you will rejoice in your inheritance.
And so you will inherit a double portion in your land,
and everlasting joy will be yours.
8
‘For I, the LORD, love justice;
I hate robbery and wrongdoing.
In my faithfulness I will reward my people
and make an everlasting covenant with them.
9
Their descendants will be known among the nations
and their offspring among the peoples.
All who see them will acknowledge
that they are a people the LORD has blessed.’
10
I delight greatly in the LORD;
my soul rejoices in my God.
For he has clothed me with garments of salvation
and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness,
as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest,
and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.
11
For as the soil makes the sprout come up
and a garden causes seeds to grow, so the Sovereign LORD will make
righteousness
and praise spring up before all nation.
Appendix A1
You who fear the Lord,

do not be afraid,
God will comfort you
and lift you up.
You who wait for God,
do not be dismayed,
God, who hears your prayers,
will answer you.
Chorus: The Sun will rise, will rise
with healing in his wings.
You who long for rest
in the day of test,
you will be restored
to live again.
You who sit alone
in the dark of night,
look towards the dawn:
our God will come.62
Appendix B63
‘Only You Are Holy’ by Donnie McClurkin
Only You are holy

Only You are worthy
Only You are wonderful
For there’s no one else like You
Who is faithful ever true
All my love, my heart, my life is a testimony
Appendix C
‘Amazing Grace’ from Ancient and Modern 2013
1
Amazing grace
how sweet the sound
that saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found,
was blind, but now I see.
2
’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
and grace my fears relieved;
how precious did that grace appear
the hour I first believed!
3
Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come:
’tis grace has brought me safe thus far,
and grace will lead me home.
4
The Lord has promised good to me,
his word my hope secures;
he will my shield and portion be
as long as life endures.
5
Yes, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
and mortal life shall cease:
I shall possess, within the veil,
a life of joy and peace.
6
The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,
the sun forbear to shine;
but God, who called me here below,
will be forever mine.
https://hymnary.org/text/amazing_grace_
how_sweet_the_sound
Appendix D64
Swing low sweet chariot

Coming for to carry me home
Swing low sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home.
Appendix E65
Go down Moses way down in Egypt land

Tell old Pharaoh to let my people go.
Appendix F66
Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen

Nobody knows but Jesus Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen
Glory hallelujah.
5 Black British Gospel-Pop Crossover
‘Gospel Codes’ in the Music of Stormzy
and Mica Paris
Matthew A. Williams
Popular music scholars acknowledge that a high proportion of black popular

music artists and session musicians (both in the UK1 and USA) have a back
ground in black gospel music.2 Examples from Rosetta Tharpe to Aretha
Franklin testify to the presence of the sound of the black church within popular
music. The sacred-secular music divide is a complex issue in many streams of
Western Christianity, and within the last 30 years, a growing number of scho
lars have given attention to this field.3 But the black church remains a relatively
unexamined area. Historically, many black-majority churches have been vocal
in their opposition to secular music. Yet, they have produced numerous cele
brated and successful performers of this music.4 This is particularly true of
Pentecostalism, where traditionally there has been a strong theological emphasis
on holiness and separation from ‘the world’ (a way of life that is antithetical to
Christian values). As such, many Pentecostals shun involvement in secular
music and sometimes ostracise those who do partake in secular musicking.5
From the vantage point of traditional Pentecostal theology around the sacred-
secular divide, these artists and musicians (to use the words of Mellonee Burnim)
‘succumb to the lure of secular music.’6 This implies a particular transgression of
established boundaries between the church and the ‘world.’
The terms ‘sacred’ and ‘secular’ have broad connotations outside of the
Christian tradition. For the purpose of this chapter, ‘secular music’ may be
defined as music that does not explicitly deal with God. It can also be musicking
that does not have a Christian frame of reference (whether this be stylistically or
lyrically). In this chapter, sacred music is understood to be the opposite, with a
particular focus on black gospel music and gospel music stylisation. Supported by
short case stud on black British soul singer, Mica Paris, I argue that one reason for
the gospel-pop crossover phenomenon is the presence of a shared store of semiotic
signs. I term these signs gospel codes. Gospel codes are part of a bridge of
mutuality between gospel and pop music modelled later in this chapter.
Gospel Codes
Gospel codes are units of musical meaning and visual gestures in pop culture
that are tacitly understood by the uninitiated listener to semiotically signify
106 Matthew A. Williams
gospel music. One of the most obvious examples is the presence of a gospel
choir in pop performance. Coldplay’s 2020 NPR tiny desk performance inclu
ded The Love Choir (a gospel choir).7 Though Coldplay does not articulate a
religious belief as a band, in this performance they include songs with religious
themes. In an NPR review, Robin Hilton makes the comment that ‘…the
choir—and Coldplay’s inspired reworking of its own music—felt transcen
dent.’8 Hilton understands the semiotic meaning of the presence of the gospel
choir in this performance as evoking the transcendent. It is acknowledged that
the ‘transcendent’ has complicated denotations and connotations in the field of
philosophy. In this chapter, I am simply using it as an antonym to the con
structed social space that frames our lives entirely within a natural (rather than
supernatural) order.9 In other interviews, Chris Martin made clear his intention
to create a ‘gospel sound’ in his recording project.10 The home of the gospel
choir is the black church, and the original setting for the gospel choir is divine
worship. By extracting the gospel choir from this environment and using it as a
trope, it serves as a ‘tool’ to evoke the transcendent in the collective con
sciousness of the audience. This is the case with many other gospel techni
ques, or gospel codes.
Secularisation
The term ‘secularisation’ was borrowed from Fredrich Schiller and popu
larised by the sociologist Max Weber.11 Over time, the use of the term within
secularisation theory and beyond has become somewhat ambiguous. As
explicated by Durkheim and Weber, secularisation theory proposes that the
modernisation of society (mainly through rationalisation and the enlight
enment) would bring about a quantitative and qualitative decline in levels of
religiosity across the West.12 Society would be devoid of belief in the trans
cendent or supernatural.13 This would lead to what Weber called ‘entzauber
ung’ or disenchantment. The word ‘disenchantment’ may also be translated as
‘demagification’ or ‘de-mysterisation.’14 The concept of disenchantment can
be defined as a society (in this case, the West, particularly Europe) eventually
existing in a naturalised world devoid of belief in the transcendent or super
natural. Though some aspects of secularisation theory have become a reality,
others require qualification. For example, Berger and Martin show that belief
in the supernatural and spiritual practices has not declined.15 Instead, many
opt to identify as ‘spiritual but not religious.’ The performance of gospel codes
in secular musicking is often part of the spiritual practices of non-Christians.
Most scholars accept the basic premise of the decline of institutional Chris
tianity across Western Europe.16
The UK is a firm resident of this new reality, known as ‘post-Christendom.’
Stuart Murray defines Post Christendom as ‘the culture that emerges as the
Christian faith loses coherence within a society that has been definitively shaped
by the Christian story and as the institutions that have been developed to
express Christian convictions decline in influence.’17 In the wake of post
Black British Gospel-Pop Crossover 107
Christendom, there is simultaneous pressure of various options for belief on the
spectrum between enchantment and disenchantment. These forces are identified
by Charles Taylor as ‘cross-pressures.’ ‘Cross-pressure’ is the sense of being
caught between echoes of transcendence (from Christendom) and the drive
toward disenchantment. The simultaneous pressures of this age of post-Chris
tendom produce a supernova of different options for belief. But the echoes of
Christianity in popular culture form part of the new pluralistic frame. This
includes the practice of gospel music stylisation in pop. In the current volume,
Monique Ingalls has shown that in the UK, community choirs that perform
gospel music often have non-Christian members who state that singing gospel
music is part of maintaining their connection with God and spirituality. In this
chapter, I am arguing that one reason for the attraction of the uninitiated to
gospel stylisation is the semiotic meaning of gospel codes. Further, the way that
gospel music and gospel stylisation is used in secular pop music is an indication
that disenchantment has not embedded itself in all of the ways predicted by
Weber.
Pluralism
This new post-Christian culture tends to be pluralistic rather than completely
devoid of belief. Sociologist Peter Berger defines pluralism as a ‘social situation
in which people with many different ethnicities, worldviews, and moralities live
together…and cognitively influence each other’s beliefs.’18 The phrase ‘cognitive
contamination,’ coined by Berger, denotes the process of influence that takes
place between individuals of differing worldviews.19 When gospel stylisation is
performed outside the sacred spaces of church worship and Christian musick
ing, the semiotic meaning may be altered through ‘cognitive contamination.’
While Berger admits that this phrase is not a ‘glorious contribution to the
English language,’ it does capture the underlying connotation of the ‘cross-pol
lination of ideas’ that takes place in a pluralistic society.20
In this post-Christian culture, the concert hall and music concert have
become new sites for spiritual experience. Pickstock states, ‘the historical
periods that have seen a gradual decline in the importance of church atten
dance have also seen the emergence of the public concert, opera and ballet as
quasi-sacral rites that are neither liturgical music nor occasional music…’21
Similarly, Brown identifies a relationship between the decline in religious
belief in the West and the growth of relations between the arts and theology,
specifically noting that music has been affected by this change.22 These sites of
semi-sacred rites require scrutiny by theologians and also specialists within
the arts. Popular music is an important field for the examination of these sorts
of claims. Yet, the relationship between popular music and religion is a
neglected area of study within the general discipline of new musicology.23
Rock concerts and raves are plainly non-religious, but as Taylor notes, ‘they sit
uneasily in the secular, disenchanted world [generating] feeling, which takes us out of
the everyday.’24 It is my argument that the gospel stylisation in popular music is an
often utilised semiotic vehicle for taking participants ‘out of the everyday.’ Karen
Gibson MBE is a black British professional gospel choir director. She has been per
forming and teaching gospel music in various capacities for around 30 years. Gibson’s
early gospel training was a result of being involved in the music ministry of the
Church of God of Prophecy, UK.25 The Kingdom Choir (led by Gibson) performed at
the Royal Wedding of the Duke and Duchess of Sussex in 2018. Speaking of her
experience of teaching gospel music to others, she says:
I’ve taught Buddhists, I’ve taught Muslims, I’ve taught witches, and they
have absolutely loved it…Whether you’re a Christian or not, it does
something for your spirit. I believe that when you’re singing, the sound
comes out, and the words go in, and if they’re words of joy then they’re
going to cause joy. They’re going to bring joy; they’re going to bring peace
and healing. they’re going to bring hope. It’s not scientifically tested, but I
keep seeing the same thing.26
These observations by Gibson give insight into how gospel stylisation evokes
meaning for the uninitiated participant in gospel musicking. It is particularly
insightful that Gibson speaks in spiritual terms about the effect of gospel styli
sation. I am asserting that this is evidence that gospel stylisation has a pluralistic
meaning when it is engaged beyond majority Christian sacred spaces.
‘He Can Go to Church with it’

Michael Ebenazer Kwadjo Omari Owuo Jr. (stage name, Stormzy) is a black
British grime artist. His mother (Abigail Owuo) was a minister in a Pentecostal
church in Streatham.27 Stormzy provides a unique insight into the way that
gospel stylisation is utilised in pop. His album Gang Signs & Prayer deals with
many secular themes. He also references his Christian upbringing in a song of
gratitude to God entitled ‘Blinded by Your Grace.’ Significantly, in an interview
about the song, he explains why he chose MNEK as the lead vocalist for this
song.
You know when you’re watching churches, and a lady or a man in the
choir just takes it away, and it’s just like, flipping heck, and everyone just
feels it in their soul? I was like, ‘I want someone to do that. I want some
one to come and take this tune where I can’t take it.’ I listen to a lot of
radio, and a lot of pop and R&B. I’ve always clocked with MNEK, he’s
got such a voice. I was like, I know he can go to church with it. He came
round to the studio, and it was like watching a magician work. He was
able to record his riffs and his [backing vocals] and his harmonies …He
took the tune exactly where I wanted it to go.28
MNEK’s performance is littered with gospel codes; stylisation that semi

otically signifies to both initiated and uninitiated that this song is to be
understood as gospel. Stormzy articulates it as ‘going to church with it.’ These
gospel codes are often used to signify the spiritual element in a performance. It
can be argued that these instances of gospel code are part of the re-enchantment of
society.
Scholars have noted that the social, psychological, and spiritual soil is not
present for Christian seeds of revival to spread.29 The type of re-enchantment
taking place has more in common with a reintroduction of pluralistic belief in
the West.30 It is my observation that cognitive contamination (as defined by
Berger) is a key reason for the ease with which gospel musicians are able to
pass from a fundamentally religious setting to pop music.31 While to a Pente
costal audience these signs would carry Judeo-Christian connotations, in a
pluralistic context, there are multiple accepted spiritual meanings.
Semiotics and Gospel Codes

With regard to the spiritual meaning of music in a pluralistic frame, the musi
cologist Philip Tagg (clearly an uninitiated listener) says:
When it comes to musical intuition, I’m certainly not the only individual
never to have learnt the intuitive skills involved in reaching the ‘natural’
state of trance experienced by those familiar with the singing of wor
shippers possessed by the Holy Spirit in extremist sects of evangelical
Christianity.32
Despite his condescending tone, his statement reveals that one needs to have a
level of competence in interpreting the store of gospel musical signs to under
stand the principles that guide the evocation of the transcendent for the listener.
Yet, there are some who are not professing Christians who have learned to read
these signs and reach their own state of ‘trance’ or transcendence.
While it is understood that music can be semiotically endowed with meaning,
the cliché that music is a universal language requires challenging on the basis
that many musical signs have tacit meanings that are socially and culturally
specific.33 Music plays a central role in Pentecostal worship. The experiences of
‘being filled with the spirit,’ ‘empowered by the spirit’ and ‘anointed by the
spirit’ are represented in various musical values within gospel. Reed, too, has
noted the role of music in this process using terms like ‘catching power’ or
‘catching the spirit.’34 In relation to the secular as a site of ‘religious’ experi
ence, Brown acknowledges that the presence of ‘gospel music is an attempt to
introduce a religious dimension to popular music.’35 I offer a model called, The
Gospel-Pop Bridge of Mutual Exchange as one way of understanding the shared
store of sounds between gospel and pop. Simply stated, a shared store of signs
exists between the black church and popular music that may be interpreted
slightly differently by either camp.
Casselberry asserts that there is a mutuality between gospel and pop
music.36 It is this site of ‘mutuality’ that is the basis upon which my theory of
gospel code rests. Situating this theory of mutual exchange within the con
ceptual framework of a pluralistic social imaginary is a way to show that pop
music is a potential site of sacred/religious expression. Gospel music is usually
understood to be a non-adversarial bridge of dialogue between the religious
and non-religious. Significantly, this theory is a way of perceiving the sacred
and ‘secular’ that is hospitable to the western secular pop music field, in the
sense that it too can be conceived of as a site of spiritual experience. This is a
model with relevance both to secularists and to Pentecostals, as the language
can be adapted for both worldviews.37 My open-world conceptual model
offers a way of construing the experience of transcendence for the religious
and non-religious.
The Routes and Roots of Gospel in the UK

During the late 1940s, a request was made by the UK government for workers
from the commonwealth. They were invited to travel to the UK to work and help
rebuild the economy after World War II. This was in response to post-war labour
shortages.38 It is widely understood that the term ‘Windrush generation’ refers to
a group of people who upon accepting this call, migrated to the UK between 1948
through to 1971.39 There were many Caribbean Pentecostals that made this trip,
and upon arrival, they set up fellowships and churches where they could maintain
some of the expressions of worship that were familiar to them.
During the 1960s, British anthropologists Malcolm Calley and Clifford Hill
were tasked with documenting and understanding the new black Pentecostal
churches being planted in the UK.40 On the face of it, the descriptions of wor
ship in these churches have marked similarity to black American Pentecostal
counterparts as regards the musical instruments used and the lively and
expressive approach. But, stylistically at this stage, it was much more related to
Caribbean vernacular music and white southern gospel than to black American
gospel.41 Calley states, ‘often the congregation’s conception of the tune and the
printed music used by the accompanist are at variance, which makes accom
paniment difficult there is a tendency for hymn tunes to acquire a calypso
rhythm when sung.’42 Calley highlights the oral tradition and the improvisa
tional aspect of worship that established unique congregational identities dis
tinct from other British churches at the time. Further, David Nathan identifies
that Caribbean churches in the UK had a different music tradition to the Pen
tecostal and Baptist traditions in the USA.43 While Nathan’s observations are
broadly accurate, he was not as acutely aware of the transition that was taking
place toward black American gospel stylisation among the younger generation
of black Pentecostals.44
During the 1970s and early 80s there was a marked change in the stylisation
of black British gospel music. Several factors contributed to this shift. The
widespread introduction of imported vinyl gospel recordings from the latest
black American artists such as The Hawkins, The Clark Sisters and The
Winans family. Prominent American gospel artists were brought into the UK
during this period by various churches for concerts and choral workshops.45
Also, younger members of black British churches began to learn black Amer
ican gospel stylised expression and perform at concerts, church convocations,
and services.46 Many practitioners learned their skills through imitating Amer
ican gospel recordings.47 It was mainly due to this shift of stylisation that black
British singers and musicians who crossed over to secular music began to find
varying degrees of success. The legacy of the early Caribbean Pentecostal sound
is not often heard on commercial black British gospel recordings of gospel.
Instead, the majority of recordings tend to foreground an American aesthetic.
While there are signs of change among Caribbean Pentecostals, the dominance
of black American stylisation has mostly continued to the present day. Seth
Pinnock is a well-known black British gospel artist. On his projects, he has
collaborated with many well-known and popular American gospel artists, such
as the Grammy award-winning choir director and songwriter Donald Lawrence
and soloist Jessica Reedy. Pinnock’s project, A New Thing – Live, is reflective
of the trend of Windrush descendants to aspire to black American gospel styli
sation.48 In 2014 Pinnock comments:
It’s definitely been American gospel music that I listen to, because that was
where all the main Bishops were, all the headquarter churches were in
America. So it was like America was kind of like the blueprint you follow
in terms of their culture and in their way of doing things. I think as Jamai
can Christians, [apart from] probably the Jamaican songs and the Jamaican
choruses…there really isn’t a great sense of identity and heritage (in the United
Kingdom) and so I feel that that’s why we always look to America so much
for, not direction, but for some kind of reference point, and I think that was
reflected in…the way we did gospel music…when it comes to gospel…I don’t
feel that we have our own heritage or landmark here.49
Pinnock’s point raises interesting issues about black identity beyond nation-
state boundaries. This topic is beyond the scope of this chapter, but it would
contextualise the seeming disconnect between Caribbean heritage and black
British gospel music. Pinnock’s observations underscore the fact that Amer
icanisation has been an important feature of black British gospel. The following
case study on Mica Paris demonstrates the place of black American gospel sty
lisation for black British artists who crossover. This brief study foregrounds my
main argument that gospel codes have particular resonance within the plur
alistic culture of the West.
Mica Paris
Born in London in 1969, Michelle Antoinette Wallen MBE (known pro
fessionally as Mica Paris) is a black British soul singer, presenter, and actress.
She grew up in the New Testament Church of God, Lewisham, South
London,50 a Pentecostal denomination started in the UK by Caribbean
migrants in the 1950s. The UK arm of this organisation is part of a wider
network of churches that has a history dating back to the USA at the birth of
Pentecostalism in the early 1900s. Her Jamaican grandmother discovered that Paris
could sing at the age of four, and at nine years old she joined the choir at her
grandparents’ church.51 Paris recounts, ‘I went to church every day, for choir
practice, Bible study, prayer meetings and all that educational stuff – and it was
there I discovered that I loved to sing.’52 Paris’ early musical training consisted of
an immersion in the sound of gospel (of the 1970s and early 1980s). In particular,
the music of the Hawkins family and Andraé Crouch.53
The Pentecostal doctrine against secular music was strictly enforced in her
grandparents’ home. Still, Paris would buy secular records and hide them under
her bed as her grandparents believed that it was ‘the Devil’s music.’ As a teen
ager, Paris began to get more exposure outside of the church gospel circuit,
which caused conflict with church leaders. By 1987 she was offered a deal with
Island Records and became one of the first black British gospel singers to cross
over to mainstream.54 She has since become a household name in UK soul
music; her first single went platinum, and she subsequently had a number of UK
chart successes, releasing six more albums. The following transcript from her
interview on Premier Christian Radio highlights that Paris is a resident in the
pluralistic frame. As such, her latest album titled Gospel should be seen from
this perspective as evoking a pluralistic field of connotation.
I am not into organised religion and all of that you know…to me there are
many roads to the divine and I respect everybody’s different way of getting
to the divine. For me it’s all about your intention and as long as you’re
good and do unto others as yourself, you know it’s all that. That’s the
moral code you have to get back to…55
The album Gospel is Paris’ eighth studio album released on 4 December

2020, her first album since 2009. The album offers a mix of sacred gospel and
spiritual songs as well as secular inspirational songs, all offered with the obli
gatory gospel codes. This album is a return to Mica Paris’ beginnings, and she
dedicates the project to her grandparents.56 The album was released in 2020 in
the midst of the Covid-19 pandemic and the death of George Floyd. In reflecting
on these issues, Paris says that the intent behind the album was to offer hope
and faith in this situation.57 The album was made in three weeks, and the songs
which are not ‘sacred’ gospel music were chosen because they reminded her of
church songs.58
Mica Paris is very clear that certain gospel techniques she uses have critical
meaning within the Pentecostal church context. She recounts in many inter
views sentiments similar to the following, ‘standing at the front of Papa’s
[her grandfather’s] church in my Sunday best, I’d watch as the tears began to
roll so I’d hold the notes for longer.’59 She recalls that people would ‘go in the
spirit’ at church when she did this.60 Paris openly admits that for her it was a
‘party trick.’61 This anecdote about ‘holding the notes’ seems to have resonance
for Paris as she indicates that it was one of the keys to her beginning a
friendship and working relationship with Prince. In an interview for Premier
Christian Radio, she recalls going to Camden Palace (now known as
KOKO) for a secret concert held by Prince. He asked Paris to join him on
stage to sing ‘Just my Imagination’. Unfortunately, Paris forgot the words
for part of the song, and so she improvised using her ‘party trick.’ She
noticed that both Prince and the crowd ‘went crazy.’62 This reference carries
meaning from both a Pentecostal viewpoint but also from a pluralistic per
spective. It is clear that there is a shared store of signs that Paris is drawing
on that are intersubjectively effective in producing agreeable ecstatic experi
ences in both audiences. One reason that gospel musicians are successful in
crossover is because this store of signs which have a sacred meaning in the
church is desirable in ‘secular’ environments also.
Paris is also clear that gospel music is spiritual music for her. I read this to
mean that the techniques she uses have a semiotic spiritual significance.
I discovered at a very young age that gospel was a way of reaching people
in the very core of their soul, and it didn’t matter if they were religious or
not…when I sing gospel it’s like I become a channel for something else.63
This is an indication that Paris knows the techniques she uses in her art have
a transcendent meaning for some of her listeners. The album itself conforms to
the pop culture caricature of the gospel sound. With the album title Gospel,
Paris is understood to be making a statement about the intent of the album.64
However, as mentioned earlier, Paris has distanced herself from the specificities
of the Christian faith and prefers a more pluralistic approach to religion. Yet,
the album contains three songs that are often performed as part of the black
American Christian sacred tradition, 'Oh Happy Day' (gospel), 'Take My Hand
Precious Lord' (gospel), 'Go Down Moses' (spiritual), plus John Newton’s
hymn, 'Amazing Grace'. Each of these songs in their own way convey elements
of specifically Christian doctrine. For this reason, the album could be con
sidered to have a gospel message. Yet, Paris’ intent demonstrates that the album
is to be read differently. The inclusion of other songs that (according to Paris)
‘sound’ like gospel is an indication that there is a wider remit to the message
she is conveying.65 The other songs on this album are intended to inspire hope,
from Foreigner’s, ‘I Want To Know What Love Is,’ to Sam Cooke’s, ‘A Change
is Gonna Come.’ Plainly, this project is not an evangelical one. Not evangelical
in the traditional meaning of seeking to convert people to Christianity. Instead,
Paris’ evangelism is intentionally non-specific; there is an irony that she has
chosen songs with specifically Judeo-Christian heritage and themes in order to
disseminate a non-specific message of hope. Yet, this is the essence of the
argument that I have been proposing, that gospel stylisation (in the form of
gospel codes) can be used in a pluralistic context to point toward a number of
different options for the listener.
Mica Paris’ approach to her art is similar to that which English composer
John Rutter has articulated in the past. In an interview published in the New
York Times (2017), Rutter, who writes Christian sacred music, is described as
having ‘nebulous’ personal beliefs about Christianity. ‘I love the Church of
England,’ Mr Rutter said. ‘When I set a sacred text, I enter it with all my heart.
But I’m more a supporter than a specific believer. I have a problem signing on
dotted lines.’66 In the past, Rutter has identified as an agnostic who doesn’t
write ‘to promote Christianity.’67 In the same way, Mica Paris can be described
as having a ‘nebulous’ faith. It is this spirituality (which is open to interpreta
tion) by the listener that implies the transcendent through the use of gospel
signs and lyrics.
Conclusion
From the well-received performance of Stormzy at Glastonbury (‘Blinded by
Your Grace’) to the performance of the Kingdom Choir at the wedding of
Prince Harry to Meghan Markle in 2018 (‘Stand by Me’), Black British
gospel musicians are crossing the boundary between sacred and secular
music on a consistent basis. Western society has been definitively shaped by
the Christian story. Some popular music carries noticeable echoes of its
complicated Christian past. This chapter demonstrates that this is particu
larly true of the manifestation of gospel codes in popular music. But these
gospel codes (especially in the UK) exist in a frame that has been subject to
pluralistic cross-pressures. These cross-pressures have produced a variety of
options for belief. The Christian worldview has become one option among
many and is often not the easiest to embrace. An ability to understand the
pluralistic frame will be critical in interpreting gospel music’s meaning for
the uninitiated outside of the sacred worship environment of the black
church.
Notes
1 Charles Taylor, A Secular Age, (United States of America: Belknap Press of Harvard
University, 2007).
2 Jason Toynbee, Catherine Tackley, and Mark Doffman, Black British Jazz: Routes
Ownership and Performance, Ashgate Popular and Folk Music Series (Farnham,
Surrey: Ashgate Publishing Limited, 2014), 73.
3 See: Theresa L. Reed, The Holy Profane: Religion in Black Popular Culture (Lex
ington, Kentucky: The University Press of Kentucky, 2003), 12; Jon Michael Spen
cer, Blues and Evil, (Knoxville: The University of Tennessee Press/Knoxville, 1993);
Jon Michael Spencer, ‘Sacred Music of the Secular City: From Blues to Rap,’ Black
Sacred Music: A Journal of Theomusicology 6, no. 1 (1992): 309; Kip Lornell, ed.,
From Jubilee to Hip Hop: Readings in African American Music (Upper Saddle
River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 2010); Jerma A. Jackson, Singing in My Soul: Black
Gospel Music in a Secular Age, (Chapel Hill & London: The University of North
Carolina Press, 2004); Robert Darden, People Get Ready! A New History of Black
Gospel Music, (London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2004). There is far less literature
on black British sacred-secular crossovers however, the following non-academic
publications make passing mention of it. Steve Alexander Smith, British Black
Gospel: The Foundations of This Vibrant UK Sound (Oxford: Monarch Books,
2009); Dulcie A Dixon McKenzie’s thesis, ‘The Future of the Past: Forging a His
torical Context for Black Gospel Music as a Tradition amongst African Caribbean
Pentecostals in Post-War Britain’ (2014).
4 Spencer, ‘Sacred Music of the Secular City: From Blues to Rap’; Jon Michael Spen
cer, Theological Music: Introduction to Theomusicology, Contributions to the Study
of Music and Dance, no. 23 (New York: Greenwood Press, 1991); Reed, The Holy
Profane: Religion in Black Popular Culture; Jackson, Singing in My Soul: Black
Gospel Music in a Secular Age; Rupert Till, Pop Cult: Religion and Popular Music
(London: Continuum, 2010); Christopher H. Partridge, The Lyre of Orpheus: Popu
lar Music, the Sacred, and the Profane (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014);
Judith S. Casselberry, ‘Were We Ever Secular? Interrogating David Brown on
Gospel, Blues, and Pop Music,’ in Theology, Aesthetics, and Culture, ed. Robert
MacSwain and Taylor Worley (Oxford University Press, 2012), 169–83, https://doi.
org/10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199646821.003.0014; David Brown, God and Grace of
Body: Sacrament in Ordinary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011); Tom
Beaudoin, ed., Secular Music and Sacred Theology (Collegeville, Minnesota:
Liturgical Press, 2013); Imogen Adkins, ‘Sacred Music in Secular Society,’ Theol
ogy 118, no. 3 (May 2015): 229–30, https://doi.org/10.1177/0040571X14566762s;
Adkins; Jonathan Arnold, Sacred Music in Secular Society, Reprint (Abingdon,
New York: Routledge, 2016); Randall J. Stephens, The Devil’s Music: How
Christians Inspired, Condemned, and Embraced Rock ‘n’ Roll (Cambridge, Mas
sachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2018); Davin Seay and Mary Neely, Stair
way to Heaven: The Spiritual Roots of Rock ‘n’ Roll, from the King and Little
Richard to Prince and Amy Grant (New York: Ballantine Books, 1986); Clive
Marsh and Vaughan Roberts, Personal Jesus: How Popular Music Shapes Our
Souls, Engaging Culture (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2012); David
Brown and Gavin Hopps, The Extravagance of Music (Switzerland: Palgrave
Macmillan, 2018); Jonathan Arnold, Music and Faith: Conversations in a Post-
Secular Age (Woodbridge, Suffolk: Boydell Press, 2019); Antti-Ville Kärjä, The
Popular and the Sacred in Music (Abingdon, Oxon; New York: Routledge, 2021);
Mike Dines and Georgina Gregory, eds., Exploring the Spiritual in Popular Music:
Beatified Beats, 1st ed., Bloomsbury Studies in Religion and Popular Music (New York:
Bloomsbury Academic, 2021).
5 There are relatively few book length treatments of this topic. See Reed, The Holy
Profane: Religion in Black Popular Culture; Jackson, Singing in My Soul: Black
Gospel Music in a Secular Age; See also Casselberry’s article response to the work of
David Brown: Casselberry, ‘Were We Ever Secular?’
6 Awet Andemicael, ‘Holiness and Worldliness,’ PNEUMA 38, no. 4 (2016): 394–410,
https://doi.org/10.1163/15700747-03804003; Amos Yong and Estrelda Alexander, eds.,
Afro-Pentecostalism: Black Pentecostal and Charismatic Christianity in History and
Culture, Religion, Race, and Ethnicity Series (New York: New York University
Press, 2011).
7 Portia K. Maultsby and Mellonee V. Burnim, eds., Issues in African American
Music: Power, Gender, Race, Representation (New York, NY; Abingdon, Oxon:
Routledge, 2017), 79.
8 Coldplay: NPR Music Tiny Desk Concert – YouTube, 2020, https://www.youtube.
com/watch?v=j82L3pLjb_0.
9 Robin Hilton, ‘Coldplay: Tiny Desk Concert’. NPR, 9 March 2020. https://www.np
r.org/2020/03/09/811857679/coldplay-tiny-desk-concert.
10 James K. A. Smith, How (Not) to Be Secular: Reading Charles Taylor (Grand
Rapids, Michigan/ Cambridge, UK: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company,
2014), 141.
11 Coldplay: Reimagined, Apple Movie, Interview (Apple Music, 2020), https://itunes.
apple.com/gb/music-movie/coldplay-reimagined/1498865484.
12 Richard Jenkins, ‘Disenchantment, Enchantment and Re-Enchantment: Max Weber
at the Millennium,’ Max Weber Studies 1, no. 1 (2000): 11–12; Max Weber, The
Protestant Ethic and Spirit of Capitalism (New York: Scribner, 1905).
13 Emile Durkheim, The Elementary Forms of the Religious Life (New York: Free
Press, 1912); Weber, The Protestant Ethic and Spirit of Capitalism.
14 For an articulation of this view, see Steve Bruce, God Is Dead: Secularization in the
West, Sixth Edition (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2002), 2.
15 William H. Swatos and Kevin J. Christiano, ‘Secularization Theory: The Course of a
Concept,’ Sociology of Religion 60, no. 3 (1999): 210, https://doi.org/10.2307/
3711934.
16 George Weigel et al., The Desecularization of the World: Resurgent Religion and
World Politics, ed. Peter L. Berger (Washington, D.C.: Grand Rapids: Ethics and
Public Policy Center; W.B. Eerdmans Pub. Co, 1999), 2.
17 John Walliss, ‘The Re-Enchantment of the West: Volume 1. Alternative Spir
itualities, Sacralization, Popular Culture and Occulture (Review),’ Nova Religio 10,
no. 1 (1 August 2006): 3, 126, https://doi.org/10.1525/nr.2006.10.1.126.
18 Stuart Murray, Post-Christendom: Church and Mission in a Strange New World
(London: SCM Press, 2018), 21.
19 He further states ‘…if secularisation theory must be given up, we need a theory of
pluralism to replace it…no individual could possibly do this. It will require efforts
over some years by colleagues from different disciplines and with different compe
tences.’ Peter L. Berger, The Many Altars of Modernity: Toward a Paradigm for
Religion in a Pluralist Age, (Boston/Berlin: De Gruyter, 2014), 1.
20 Berger, The Many Altars of Modernity, 2.
22 See Catherine Pickstock’s essay: ‘Quasi Una Sonata: Modernism, Postmodernism,
Religion and Music’ in Jeremy Begbie and Steven R. Guthrie, eds., Resonant Wit
ness: Conversations Between Music and Theology, The Calvin Institute of Chris
tian Worship Liturgical Studies (Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans
Publishing Company, 2011), 190.
23 David Brown, ‘Music, Theology, and Religious Experience,’ International Journal
for the Study of the Christian Church 20, no. 1 (2 January 2020): 4, https://doi.org/
10.1080/1474225X.2020.1733772.
24 Christopher Partridge and Marcus Moberg, Bloomsbury Handbook of Religion and
Popular Music, Reprint (London: Bloomsbury, 2019), 1, 7.
25 Charles Taylor, A Secular Age, (United States of America: Belknap Press of Harvard
University, 2007), 517–18.
26 The Church of God of Prophecy (UK) is a majority black British expression of an
international Pentecostal church of the same name birthed in Cleveland, Tennessee,
USA in 1923.
27 James Tapper, ‘“It Brings the Spirit Joy”: Britain’s Godmother of Gospel on Why
Her Choir Stole the Royal Wedding,’ The Guardian, 26 May 2018, https://www.
theguardian.com/uk-news/2018/may/26/kingdom-choir-karen-gibson-royal-wedding.
28 Miranda Sawyer, ‘Stormzy: “Respect Me like You Would Frank Ocean or Adele,”’
The Guardian, 19 February 2017, https://www.theguardian.com/music/2017/feb/19/
stormzy-interview-gang-signs-and-prayers-respect-me-frank-ocean-adele.
29 Aimee Cliff, ‘Stormzy Tells The Story Behind Every Song On His Debut Album,’
The FADER, 23 February 2017, https://www.thefader.com/2017/02/23/stormzy-ga
ng-signs-and-prayer-track-by-track-interview.
30 Christopher H. Partridge, The Re-Enchantment of the West: Alternative Spir
itualities, Sacralization, Popular Culture, and Occulture (London; New York: T & T
Clark International, 2004), 3.
31 I use the word ‘reintroduction’ deliberately as, prior to the dominance of a particular
Roman Catholic Christianity across the West, the idea the one could exist in a
society with pluralistic spiritual commitment was somewhat less contentious. The
chief example of this being polytheistic ancient Greek society. This also applies to
polytheistic Roman society prior to its Christianisation.
33 Philip Tagg, Music’s Meanings: A Modern Musicology for Non-Musos (Hudders
field: The Mass Media Music Scholars’ Press Inc., 2013), 70.
34 Linda Shaver-Gleason, ‘Not Another Music History Cliché!: Is Music a Universal
Language?’, Not Another Music History Cliché! (blog), 4 January 2018, https://nota
nothermusichistorycliche.blogspot.com/2018/01/is-music-universal-language.html.
35 Teresa Reed, ‘Shared Possessions: Black Pentecostals, Afro-Caribbean’s, and Sacred
Music,’ Black Music Research Journal 32, no. 1 (2012): 6, https://doi.org/10.5406/bla
cmusiresej.32.1.0005.
36 ‘It is often claimed that pop music must of necessity lie at the opposite extreme from
true religious experience since the superficiality of music deprives it of all depth.
Gospel music and similar attempts to introduce a religious dimension, it is said, can
only at most sustain already, existing beliefs, not help in any way to initiate them.’
Brown, God and Grace of Body, 295.
37 Casselberry, ‘Were We Ever Secular?’, 174.
38 ‘Embedded within pop music’s DNA are sonic and physical evidence of divine
encounter, which some listeners may experience as “religious,” while others may
feel an “emotive authenticity.” Either interpretation reveals a “musico-sacred
gateway” available to musicians and audiences.’ Casselberry, ‘Were We Ever
Secular?’, 15.
39 Matthew Mead, ‘Empire Windrush: The Cultural Memory of an Imaginary Arrival,’
Journal of Postcolonial Writing 45, no. 2 (1 June 2009): 137–49, https://doi.org/10.
1080/17449850902819920.
40 Windrush specifically references the MV Empire Windrush, a ship that arrived in
Tilbury Docks, Essex carrying migrants from many countries, on 22 June 1948.
41 Malcolm J. C. Calley, God’s People: West Indian Pentecostal Sects in England
(London and New York: Oxford University Press, 1965); Clifford S. Hill, West
Indian Migrants and the London Churches (London and New York: Oxford Uni
versity Press, 1963); Clifford Hill, ‘From Church to Sect: West Indian Religious Sect
Development in Britain,’ Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion 10, no. 2 (1971):
114, https://doi.org/10.2307/1385300.
42 ‘The Pentecostals have a lively and expressive form of worship. They make a great
use of music and the singing of spirituals and choruses. The accompaniment is
provided by a variety of musical instruments, such as electric guitars, banjos, or a
trumpet. The congregation also participates with tambourines and by hand-clap
ping, and there is plenty of opportunity in their meetings for self-expression on the
part of the individual worshipper.’ Hill, West Indian Migrants and the London
Churches, 73.
43 Calley, God’s People: West Indian Pentecostal Sects in England, 84–85.
44 Aaron Cohen, Amazing Grace, 33 1/3 (New York: Continuum, 2011), 141.
45 Director for the award-winning London Community Gospel Choir, Bazil Meade
speaks of his involvement with a pioneering gospel band, Kainos, ‘we modelled
ourselves on the professional American music scene. So everything from our dress
style…to our instruments (Hammond organ and Fender Rhodes keyboards)… In
1978 Kainos even made an album – Changing was marketed on the reggae label
Tempus – and in 1979 we played at Greenbelt, which was a prestigious venue, with
its mix of religious and contemporary music.’ Bazil Meade and Jan Greenough, A
Boy, a Journey, a Dream: The Story of Bazil Meade and the London Community
Gospel Choir (Oxford; Grand Rapids, Mich.: Monarch Books, 2011), 103.
46 Roy Francis, How to Make Gospel Music Work for You: A Guide for Gospel Music
Makers and Marketers (Surrey: Filament Publishing Ltd, 2019), 79.
47 Meade and Greenough, A Boy, a Journey, a Dream, 103.
48 In 1984, Juliet Fletcher a singer within COGIC states ‘we began picking up on the
American gospel records we did just about every song of the Aretha Franklin
Amazing Grace album.’ Fletcher later became an ambassador for black British gospel
music working for many years with the BBC and now leads the UK based, Gospel
Music Industry Alliance. Viv Broughton, Black Gospel: An Illustrated History of
the Gospel Sound, (Poole, Dorset: New York, N.Y: Blandford Press; Distributed
by Sterling Publishing Company, 1985), 164.
49 Seth Pinnock, ‘A New Thing Live’, Spotify Online Streaming (Symphony Records,
2019), https://open.spotify.com/album/7GZSgH3d80JtCKtknmP3A0?si=
qVtN3PWJQUm121htzyTvOg.
50 Isaac Odeniran, Jordan’s Demeanours: A Research into the History of Black Gospel
Music in the United Kingdom Since 1948 (Peterborough: Upfront Publishing, 2014).
51 Angela White, ‘Mica Paris: To My Daughters, I’m the One That Cooks and Clea-ns.
Not “Mica Paris,”’ The Guardian, 23 June 2017, http://www.theguardian.com/life-a
ndstyle/2017/jun/23/mica-paris-soul-singer-talent-spotted-fame-grandmother-da
ughters-sisters.
52 Premier, ‘Mica Paris: The UK’s Soul Queen on Her New Gospel Album: Saturday 06
February 2021 8:00:00 Pm,’ Premier Christian Radio, accessed 13 February 2021, http
s://www.premierchristianradio.com/Shows/Saturday/The-Profile/Episodes/Mica-Pa
ris-The-UK-s-soul-queen-on-her-new-Gospel-album?fbclid=IwAR0tP7bp
s9sECyElNLzG15t_RC5DkvtDSwxz6wX1dtwo0n-HifcNmpEvnH0.
53 ‘Mica Paris: My Grandfather Thought Any Music but Gospel Came from Satan’s
Kingdom,’ accessed 13 February 2021, https://www.express.co.uk/entertainment/m
usic/1311928/Mica-Paris-grandfather-music-gospel-satan-kingdom.
54 The Hawkins family were based in Oakland, California. Edwin (1943–2018) and
Walter (1949–2010) were well-known in the gospel community (along with Walter’s
ex-wife, still known professionally as Tramaine Hawkins (she now refers to herself
as ‘Lady Tramaine’)). They produced a plethora of gospel recordings that revolu
tionised gospel music most notable of which are the Love Alive series led by Walter
Hawkins. But also, Edwin Hawkins crossover 1968 hit ‘Oh Happy Day.’
Kingdom.’
56 Ibid.
57 Jason Draper, ‘Mica Paris: “I Was Going Home” With Gospel Album,’ Dig!, 04
December 2020, accessed 16 February 2021. https://www.thisisdig.com/feature/mica
-paris-gospel-album-interview/.
58 Speaking of the death of George Floyd and the coronavirus pandemic ‘Today we all
face challenges like we’ve never had before and faith in the future will help us all
through this and I hope my album will inspire people to have hope.’ Premier, ‘Mica
Paris: The UK’s Soul Queen on Her New Gospel Album: Saturday 06 Februa
ry 2021 8:00:00 Pm,’ Premier Christian Radio, accessed 13 February 2021, https://
www.premierchristianradio.com/Shows/Saturday/The-Profile/Episodes/Mica-Paris
The-UK-s-soul-queen-on-her-new-Gospel-album?fbclid=IwAR0tP7bp
59 Timestamp 9:00–9:40 Premier.
60 This is one of many occasions that Paris recalls the power of holding a note. Jane
Warren. ‘Mica Paris: My Grandfather Thought Any Music but Gospel Came from
Satan’s Kingdom’. Express, 20 July 2020, sec. Music. https://www.express.co.uk/
entertainment/music/1311928/Mica-Paris-grandfather-music-gospel-satan-kingdom.
See also: Mica Paris – The Story Behind Gospel (Behind The Scenes), 2021, https://
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-6SJFZlGGOM.
61 ‘But I noticed when I held the notes really long, everyone started to get into the
spirit. So I started holding that note – it was all going off like The Blues Brothers.
They were jumping up and down, and then suddenly there was a star: we’ve got this
little prodigy.’ Mica Paris.
62 BBC, ‘BBC One – Songs of Praise, Mica Paris’s Faith Journey, A Childhood in
Church,’ BBC, accessed 16 February 2021, https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p
09235j9.
63 See timestamp 21:45–22:47 Premier, Mica Paris.
Kingdom.’
65 The word ‘gospel’ literally means good news and is understood within Christian circles
to speak of the message of hope connected to the death, burial and resurrection of
Christ.
66 ‘I chose the other songs because they sounded like gospel’ Premier, Mica Paris.
67 The article continues: ‘As for the church that stands beside his house in Hemingford
Abbots, he loves it, but doesn’t often go inside. “I know they do my music, though,
because my wife sings in the choir,” he said. “Poor thing: There’s no escape.”’
Michael White, ‘The Composer Who Owns Christmas,’ The New York Times, 16
December 2017, sec. Arts, https://www.nytimes.com/2017/12/16/arts/music/john-rut
ter.html.
68 The interview continues, ‘When I press him on the truth of the Christmas story in all
those carols, he prevaricates. “That’s like asking if a Beethoven symphony is true: it’s
not a question that gets you very far. The questions I’d ask about the Christmas
story, or Beethoven, are: is it inspiring, is it uplifting, and does it have something to
say to us today? Answer: yes, yes, yes.”’ Michael White, ‘The Carol Singers’ Shining
Star, The Telegraph, 14 December 2001, https://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/
4727014/The-carol-singers-shining-star.html.
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6 The ‘Sacred’ and ‘Secular’ Interplay
Within Gospel Grime Performance1
Samson Tosin Onafuye
Introduction
Rooted in the late 20th-century history of black gospel2 music cultures, the
“sacred” and “secular”3 interplay has manifested itself within a range of trans-
local black gospel music genres: namely, gospel blues, gospel reggae, gospel
funk, and gospel RnB. The emergence of these genres in the late 20th century
demonstrated how musically creative Christian-orientated identities enmeshed
“sacred” and “secular” sensibilities for the expression of their unique brand of
Christianity. In the 21st century, black-British gospel music demonstrates a
continuity of this musical legacy with the emergence of urban contemporary
black-British gospel music tied to street aesthetics – namely, gospel grime,4 a
genre that will be the centre of my analysis in this chapter. In the discussion, I
introduce the sections black majority Pentecostal churches, popular music, hip-
hop and Christianity as a contextual background to the study. This is because
gospel grime is a 21st-century iteration of the late 20th-century black-British
gospel music traditions which fused popular music aesthetics and worship
engagements. Furthermore, the emergence of Christian hip-hop in the late 20th
century revealed how Christian-orientated identities who identify as Christian
and hip hop used “secular” hip-hop aesthetics for the formation of their
Christian identities; a religio-musical movement that would remerge at the turn
of the century with the emergence of gospel grime.
My central argument within this chapter is that both the “sacred” and
“secular” are intertwined within the cultural production of gospel grime music.
The genre is, indeed, an embodiment of the ways in which black-British
Christian-orientated MCs collapse “sacred” and “secular” borders within the
black gospel music tradition. I also make the claim that, given some of its per
formance practices, gospel grime is, in fact, an extension of black sacred music
emerging from the religio-cultural space of the black majority Pentecostal
churches. As a subgenre within the tradition, this street coded religo-musical
genre is part of the ever-proliferating sonic world of urban contemporary black-
British gospel music. And whilst the genre has cultural ties to the “sacred”
context of a range of local black majority Pentecostal churches5 in Britain, it is
simultaneously connected to “secular” (non-religious) grime cultures through
124 Samson Tosin Onafuye
the ways in which MCs use grime cultural aesthetics to embody their faith
sonically and visually.
In this chapter, I make use of ethnographic data collected during my
doctoral programme to validate and concretise the claims I make.
Background to the Study
Black Majority Pentecostal Churches and Popular Music

Throughout the history of black sacred music within the diaspora, we have
observed how black gospel music artists emerging from within black majority
church traditions – particularly black majority Pentecostal churches – have uti
lised popular music forms for worship engagements. In the African-American
context, where black gospel music first became a formal tradition, we observe how
Thomas Dorsey, an African-American gospel music icon, first collapsed “sacred”
and “secular” borders by fusing together blues music sensibilities (“secular”)
with black Christian worship practices (“sacred”). Following his legacy, sub
sequent black gospel music icons in the 20th century – namely, Rosetta Tharpe,
Ray Charles, André Crouch, Edwin Hawkins’ singers – all continued to blur
the lines between “sacred” and “secular” musical traditions.6 Likewise, in Brit
ain, during the late 20th century young black church musicians and an assort
ment of gospel music outfits emerging from within a range of institutionalised
black majority Pentecostal churches, like their African-American counterparts,
collapsed “sacred” and “secular” sonic borders by appropriating popular music
styles such as reggae, jazz, funk and RnB, and subsequently, hip hop, to engage
worship practices.7 Yet, the use of popular music stylistic forms for institutio
nalised Christian worship practices within black majority Pentecostal churches
was considered to be “transgressive” and consequently, “strongly disapproved
by the conservative and policing sensibilities of a range of black majority
church […] elders”.8 For them, popular music was too closely aligned to a
“sinful life before Christ”9 and a culture of decadence. Despite the strong dis
approval towards their sonic expressions of faith, black-British gospel music
artists “persisted in their desire to use popular music for the purposes of evan
gelism, worship, and aesthetic engagement.”10 Consequently, this sparked an
intergenerational divide – one which emerged in response to divergent inter-
generational views on the sonic appropriateness for worship engagement and
Christian identity formation. In response to their aesthetic aversion, church
musicians and gospel music outfits created an alternative space for the expres
sion of their unique musical brand of Christianity: the “concert scene.”11
Characterised as an “alternative local space,”12 the concert scene, as Muir
explains, served as a space where:
[i]dentities could be resisted and performed. Notwithstanding the view of

black religious leaders that this was a transgressive space, the scene cre
ated a site for youth rebellion without abandoning the core tenets of their
The ‘Sacred’ and ‘Secular’ Interplay Within Gospel Grime Performance 125
faith. Young people could counter the holiness norms that their con
servative religious environments held dear, while simultaneously appro
priating aesthetic codes and modes from popular culture to perform their
unique brand of theology.13
This “alternative local space” became home to a diversity of popular music-

orientated gospel music stylistic formations – namely, traditional black choirs,
gospel reggae, gospel funk, gospel RnB.14 The various iteration of black-British
gospel music within this space evidenced the reality that western-orientated
binary formations such as sacred/secular, worship/entertainment, tradition/
innovation had seemingly been collapsed by a generational cohort of black-
British Christians seeking culturally relevant means of worship engagement and
Christian identity formation.
The Enmeshing of Hip Hop and Christianity

Another popular music form which influenced a cultural cohort of black-British
Christian was hip hop. The birth of hip hop15 culture during the late 20th cen
tury16 and its arrival in Britain17 impacted a generation of black-British Chris
tian youths who were also seeking a sense of purpose and meaning in Britain’s post
war context. Seemingly, hip hop offered them the space for the basis of their identity
formation. Alluding to this, in her work, Hip-Hop Authenticity and the London
scene: Living Out Authenticity in Popular Music, Speers explains that:
Young people in the UK embraced hip hop culture in the late 70s, most
notably in London where, according to Gidley… diasporic youth found the
malleable cultural resources of hip hop a meaningful form of identity
exploration and expression in a predominately white society.18
Thus, born out of the lived experiences of marginalised identities living in poor
urban inner-city environments,19 hip hop expressed the everyday experiences
and concerns of black working-class identities; those socially alienated, politi
cally voiceless, and economically disenfranchised in 20th-century British
society.20 According to Rose, hip hop “articulate[s] the shifting terms of black
marginality […]” and therefore articulates “[…] the problems of black urban
life” as it is experienced by those who create the culture.21 And whilst hip hop
became a space through which its cultural producers voiced out their social,
political, and economic concerns, to some – primarily those who identified as
Christian and hip hop – it became a suitable space to explore and navigate their
Christianity. By the mid-80s a generation of Christian cohorts, those having
Christianity forming a major part of their identities, who also identified as hip
hop, utilised “secular” (non-religious) hip hop aesthetics for evangelical pur
poses and Christian identity formation.22 This enmeshing produced what would
become the first black gospel music tradition tied to an urban street aesthetics
in Britain: Christian hip hop.23
Like its “secular” (non-religious) counterpart, Christian hip hop first emerged
within the African American context.24 However, by the late 80s and through
out the 90s, London could boast of its own – albeit small – underground
Christian hip hop scene.25 Those who had claimed a Christian hip hop identity
demonstrated how the “secular” (hip hop aesthetics: beats, bars, language, and
urban fashion) and the “sacred” (Christian worldview and lifestyle) could co
exists. As with the manifestations of popular music-orientated forms of black
gospel music in Britain,26 the intersection of hip hop and Christianity became a
juxtaposition which sparked cultural anxieties within a range of conservative
black majority Pentecostal churches. Earlier transatlantic controversies which
surrounded popular music-orientated religio-musical formations such gospel
blues, gospel reggae, gospel funk, gospel RnB had once again (re)surfaced with
the manifestations of Christian hip hop. Despite its evangelical context and
overt references to Christian imagery, during its early manifestations in the late
20th century the music had been opposed by some conservative “elders” within
the church. They conceived of it as “an incomplete transformation of secular
street culture” thereby rendering it “inappropriate for the ‘sacred’ context of
church services.”27 In his article, Britain’s Hip-Hop Underground, Journalist,
Tony Cummings, who surveyed the Christian hip hop scene in Britain, noted
that Christian hip hop had been “treated with suspicion by church.”28 Con
firming this, in an interview with Cummings, S.O.E (Son of Encouragement), a
London-based Christian hip hop artist who emerged in the 90s, explained that
some leaders within the church:
[T]hought it [Christian hip hop] had no place in the church (and that’s
putting it mildly!). At one concert a man came up to me at the end of our
set and said it was disgraceful that we had brought “jungle drums” into the
church. I thought that our biggest opposition would come from non-
Christians because of our lyrical content! I remember feeling misunderstood
and at times angry at some of the church’s reaction to our music. However,
now when I look back at that period, I can understand why some people
opposed or were uneasy about Gospel rap/hip hop. We are often weary of
ideas or things that we do not understand.29
Despite some conservative churches excluding Christian hip hop performances

within their worship contexts, Christian hip hop, as a religio-musical movement
continued to emerge. MCs engaged their evangelical commitments beyond the
walls of institutionalised churches, opting to perform in a variety of non-reli
gious (“secular”) spaces: clubs, prisons, schools. Clearly, then, the early Chris
tian hip hop tradition in Britain demonstrated how Christian-orientated
identities have long engaged in a politics of disruption by disrupting and com
plicating binary categorisations by using “secular” music tools for the purposes
of “sacred” worship engagements and evangelical commitments. As such, the
emergence of the tradition served as a means of problematising hegemonic
conceptions of black gospel music and, ultimately, black-British
Christianities. Building on this tradition, at the turn of the century we
observed how a cohort of third and fourth generation black-British youths
under the classification, “generation grime”, continued the tradition of black
sacred music tied to urban street aesthetics through the emergence of gospel
grime.
As a localised variation of hip hop, grime music emerged as a uniquely black
and British London-centric sonic event of the early 21st century. Before its
emergence, local rap artists (MCs) appropriated African-American sonic and
visual modalities of hip hop, appropriating the style, vernacular, accents, and
cultural language of African-American hip hop artists.30 However, owing to the
pioneering sensibilities of rap outfit, London Posse, a group of MCs who
rapped in distinctly London accents using London street-English31 and about
London-centric issues, during the late 20th century hip hop in Britain had been
“modified to reflect the people and place of where it is adopted.”32 Further
evidence of this was the emergence of grime music at the turn of the century.
According to Charles, the birth of grime, which she contends to be a “[…]
distinctly British adaptation and transformation of hip hop […]” was how “UK
hip hop had found its voice.”33
For Christian cohorts within generation grime, namely identities who had
Christianity forming a significant part of their identities, grime, to them,
became a culturally suitable space where they (MCs, in particular) could “do”
Christianity. Thus, the confluence of grime cultural aesthetics and Christian
worldviews emerged into a religio-musical subgenre characterised as gospel
grime – a Christian alternative to “secular” (non-religious) grime music. Given
that I have given a contextual backdrop to gospel grime, the rest of this chapter
focuses specifically on the multivalent ways in which gospel grime MCs
demonstrate the interplay between the “secular” and “sacred” within gospel
grime performances. And given that gospel grime MCs are the main cultural
producers enabling a gospel grime cultural production, my analysis henceforth
will focus primarily on their performance practices and the ways in which they
sonically and visually enable a gospel grime cultural production.
Grime Music: Brief Overview

Grime is a black-British genre of music that emerged from London’s inner cities
at the turn of the twenty-first century. Born out of the black-British inner-city
experience, grime is a “Black-British, DIY, male-dominated genre of music
[…].”34 Those who enable a grime cultural production are London’s disen
franchised and marginalised identities. Although grime has become an artistic
voice for Britain’s multi-ethnic, inner-city, working-class identities, it is pre
dominantly represented by black-British male identities. Sonically, the genre
draws influences from various cultural sonic junctions within the black Atlan
tic:35 namely, the sound system culture of Jamaica, black American hip hop
culture, UK’s Drum n Bass and two-step garage culture. Musically, according to
Charles, grime’s early (2000s) sound had been characterised as “typically 4/4
(crotchet beats to bar) comprising of repeated 8 or 16 cycled loops and domi
nated by low frequencies – bass and dub […]”.36 “The average tempo”, she
explains further, “ranges between 136–140 beats per minute.”37 Over a melange
of hard-hitting post-industrial sonic soundscapes which form into grime beats,
MCs (orators) “spit” (rap) with fast-paced, intense vocals, using distinctly British
accents and regional slang.
Lyrically, grime seeks to “articulate urban worlds as they are seen through
the eyes of those who live within these social environments.”38 In the world of
grime, MCs lament the story of living in violent environments characterised by
death, tragedy, poverty, racism and a neo-liberal institutional system that per
petually fail their communities. Amongst the list of key exemplars of the early
grime scene39 are Dizzee Rascal, So Soild Crew, Wiley (who is considered the
godfather of grime), JME, Lethal Bizzle, Kano, Lady Sovereign, and Professor
Green. Using rap aesthetics,40 they teach the world about the conditions of their
living. According to Palmer, “through the genre of grime music, some are also
asserting aspects of the political particularities of their cultural, socio-historical
and economic predicament of being young, human and black in London.”41
Within the “secular” (non-religious) lyrical space of grime, MCs reflect on
and speak of their complex social realities, their inner struggles, their socio
economic desires, and their existential concerns and questions about the world
they inhabit.42 Thus, to enter the “secular” world of grime is to enter a complex
existential world inundated within inspiration and tragedy, glamorised grief,
moral and physic dilemmas. According to Swain, in the lyrical space of grime:
lyrics are used in a rather contradictory manner, exuding both a positive

sense of communalism as well as a negative undertone that glorifies vio
lent metaphors and disingenuous lifestyles based on drugs, illicit sexual
behaviour and the denigration of women.43
Owing to this, secular grime has been perceived as the soundtrack to a black
male criminal enterprise. For instance, in 2003, culture minister Kim Howells
“launched an attack” on the music, referring to its cultural producers – who are
predominately black – as “idiots” who glamorise gun culture44 and primary
arbiters of violence who incite “[…] gang membership, criminal activity and
violence particularly amongst young black men.”45 Quite often, as Boakye
observes, the “camaraderie, collaboration, craft, criticality and creativity inher
ent in Grime is all too easily overshadowed by this unhealthy tendency towards
black violence”; therefore, “the genre does a lot to reinforce some of the least
helpful stereotypes often levelled at young black men.”46 While the early mani
festations of “secular” grime continued to experience state surveillance owing to
its perceived association with violence and amoral behaviour,47 a Christian
alternative to the music had emerged to resist and counter the stereotypes
associated with the genre by providing a Christian-orientated social narrative.
Gospel Grime: A Brief Overview
For black-British identities born in Britain, who identify as Christian and grime,
the discursive space of grime served – and continues to serve – as a culturally
suitable space to explore and negotiate their Christian-orientated identities.
Within this space, they reimagine what it means to be grime through a Chris
tian worldview. As a predominately black-British male-centred/dominated
space, gospel grime, as one MC informed me during an interview, is essentially
“MCs sharing their faith on grime music.”48 They use “secular” grime sonic
textures, socio-cultural language (black-British street vernacular), visual aes
thetics and street codes to make Christianity relevant to their everyday inner-city
lived experiences.
Gospel grime originated from East London during the early 2000s. The
genre made its public debut in 2007 with the song, “Bibles Bibles”, which
was the first official gospel grime song to be aired on British urban TV
channel, channel AKA.49 The song featured key exemplars within the small-
scale scene: namely, Simply Andy, Triple O, Faith Child, Guvna B, Gabz,
Stealth, Serene, Kasi, Victizzle.50 The song maintained a “secular” grime
sonic aesthetic51 without explicit lyrics. In fact, using biblically inspired
lyrics MCs challenged, critiqued, and resisted the “badman aesthetic”52
expressed in the lyrical space of “secular” (non-religious) grime.53 And given
the criticism grime was facing within Britain’s mainstream press,54 the song
demonstrated how Christian-orientated MCs reimagined the possibilities of
grime by using grime aesthetics to express an alternative narrative frame
work mediated through a Christian-orientated worldview. Here is a lyrical
example:
I don’t elevate rifles rifles

Hands in the sky with Bibles Bibles
Bruv, what you saying?
It’s the word of God that I am spraying
No sexting
No gun talk, or shanks
Shooting is words in your heart, not blanks
Bruv, what you saying?
It’s the Bible hands that I am waving
No brap brap, No shanks, No idols
Replace the gun finger with a Bible 55
It is clear through the above lyrical example that the song served as a Christian-
orientated counter-social narrative to the dominate themes expressed in the
lyrical space of “secular” (non-religious) grime. The overt resistance to sala
ciousness and violence through the lens of Christianity as expressed in the song
was a clear social statement from black-British Christian-orientated MCs that
an alternative social narrative could co-exist within space of grime.
Following the debut of “Bibles Bibles”, the next significant musico-cultural
event in the scene’s early development was the launching of the genre’s first
official album, Next ting 140: the very best of Gospel Grime. Curated by Guvna
B, one of genre’s leading MCs, the album featured a host of various black-
British inner-city, working-class, Christian-orientated MCs committed to using
“secular” (non-religious) grime musical tools to articulate their lived experi
ences mediated through a Christian-orientated worldview.56 The album
demonstrated how, as Dehanas states, “professional gospel rap musicians […]
represent or testify to their Christian faith,”57 revealing the “importance of
keeping one’s religious beliefs tangibly real admits the vicissitudes of life.”58
Furthermore, under the Next Ting 140 initiative, Guvna B hosted a series of
gospel grime live events between 2011–2013, featuring all MCs who had
appeared on the album. These events mirrored the live performance aesthetics
and modalities of the “secular” (non-religious) grime live performance space, all
except for the use of disingenuous lyrics and explicit language (I discuss this in
more detail in the subsequent section), and the possibility of violent outbreak.
By the early 2010s, and throughout this period, a small-scale yet vibrant gospel
grime scene characterised by live events, a strong mix-tape culture, and a close-
knit community, emerged in London.
Modelling the “Sacred” and “Secular” in Gospel Grime

In the introduction to this chapter, I pointed out that black-British gospel
music during the late 20th century experienced aesthetic transformations
owing to the ways in which black majority Pentecostal church musicians and
an assortment of gospel music outfits crossed “sacred” and “secular” musical
and ideological borders using popular music formats for worship purposes.
Building on the transatlantic legacies of 20th-century African-American gospel
music icons who first blurred the lines between the “sacred” and “secular”,
black-British gospel music followed in this tradition of musical syncretism by
fusing together “sacred” and “secular” stylistic formats such as gospel blues,
gospel jazz, gospel reggae, gospel/RnB, Christian hip hop, and more recently,
gospel grime.
Whilst the similarities in sonic aesthetic, compositional structure, musical
metaphors, chord structures (tritones, inversions, chord intonations) and per
formance rhetoric reflect the interplay between the “sacred” and “secular”
within the aforementioned black gospel music subgenres, in gospel grime
music culture, however, the “secular” interplay maintains a lesser degree of
musical and sonic similarities to the range of black religio-musical subgenres
performed within the institutionalised space of black majority Pentecostal
churches. This is due to the nonsensical and non-traditional soundscapes
which constitute grime music’s sonic profile. Therefore, I argue that the “sacred”
and “secular” in gospel grime performance – particularly in terms of its sonic
formation – is less reflective of institutionalised black majority Pentecostal
church music and, as a result, presents the cultural production of gospel
grime as an alternative religio-musical model which moves beyond the traditional
sonic formation of black gospel music.
The term “secular” in gospel grime performance culture signifies how MCs
generate a grime sonic aesthetic using grime musical tools, and visual perfor
mance rhetoric which is aligned with the non-religious format of grime. Given
their dual identity formation – being Christian and Grime – MCs within the
genre use these “secular” musico-cultural tools to perform, construct, negoti
ate, navigate, and embody their Christian identities and express their faith.
The “sacred”, on the other hand, accounts for the Christian identity of the
music expressed explicitly through the biblically inspired lyrics of the MC.
Therefore, translated into lyrics is the MCs Christian ideological orientation
and worldview. Whilst there is not a singular gospel grime sound, there are,
however, basic sonic principles MCs adhere to; for instance, the use of repe
ated eight or 16 cycled rhythmic loops set to an average tempo of 140bpm, a
melange of hard-hitting post-industrial sonic soundscapes upon which MCs
rap with fast-paced, intense vocals, using distinctly British accents and black-
British street-coded vernacular. In the absence of the “sacred” (Christian
orientated) lyrics of the MC, there are no sonic signifiers which distinguishes
gospel grime from its non-religious counterpart; it is the Christian-orientated/
biblically inspired lyrics of the MC which gives gospel grime its “sacred”
identity.
Like its non-religious counterpart, the “secular” in gospel grime is char
acterised by beats.59 Within this genre format, beats are rhythmic patterns cre
ated by a melange of layered hard-hitting electronic sounds. Together, these
sounds form into a dense sonic texture which serve as sonic metaphors depict
ing the post-industrial environment/soundscapes.60 The post-industrial sonic
aesthetic61 audible in the beats is intended to reflect the everyday lived experi
ences of the MC. Beats are made using music software programmes and provide
the musical foundation over which MC “spit” their Christian-orientated bars.
As such, “secular” in gospel grime musical culture is, therefore, characterised by
the sonic aesthetics of the beat. By using secular grime music tools such as the
beat – the soundscapes which, altogether, create its form – gospel grime MCs
demonstrate how the “secular” and “sacred” are enmeshed in the religio-musi
cal world of gospel grime.
Whilst, indeed, the “sacred” in gospel grime is primarily enacted through the
Christian- orientated/biblically inspired lyrics of the MC, the process first
begins with the ideological (re)orientation of the MC towards a Christian
worldview. This process is inspired by the “Christian conversion” event they
experience.62 The Christian conversion is a process in which the subject, the
individual, experiences “religious transformation”63 and therefore adopts a
Christian worldview, thereby adhering to Christian morals, values, ethics.
During the interviews I held with MCs they made frequent mention of Chris
tian-conversion as a personal event which marked their entrance into conscious-
practicing Christianity. For them, this process was a prerequisite for their
Christian identity formation and, subsequently, their Christianised music
making practices. To confirm their conversion experience, they use a variety of
conversion-orientated verbal statements such as “when I became a Christian”,
“when I got saved”, “starting to take my faith more seriously”, or being “born
again.”64
These verbal signifiers serve as portals into the Christian worldview of the
MC and the Christianised (“sacred”) nature of their music-making practices.
Significant to mention here is that while these statements confirm the conver
sion event in their lives, they do not account for the exact moment of conver
sion except for “a way to understand the process after the fact, both instant and
gradual, which gives insight into the importance of narrativising, retelling, and
interpreting conversion experience.”65 Here, Zanfagna further explains:
practices of conversion, whether they involved a spiritual change, a change

from one viewpoint to another, a physical change, a change in function, or
even just a turn of a phrase, made possible certain moments, sites, and
experiences of transition, rebirth, and changeover.66
Following the conversion event, MCs live a life of Christian peculiarity.67

According to Jones, “in charismatic Christian biblical interpretation and usage,
peculiarity refers to those who are spiritually ‘set apart’, ‘sanctified’, or ‘con
secrated’ for God’s purposes.”68 By choosing to adopt Christianity as a basis
for identity formation, and expressing this in the discursive space of grime, MC
enact a performance of Christian-orientated “social peculiarity” which, accord
ing to Jones, “demonstrates social [….] discipline to God and humankind in
[…] attitude.”69 What is suggested here, therefore, is that post-conversion
event, MCs transpose and transfigure their worldviews and behaviours which
was once associated with a life of decadence70 to a social lifestyle which
demonstrates a commitment and discipline to the Christian God. Serving as
concrete evidence of their religious conversion, MCs transition from rapping
about “disingenuous lifestyles”71 to rapping about their newly formed and
forged relationship with Christianity, and how it informs their socio-cultural
outlook. For instance, in an interview with me, gospel grime MC, Shardz,
explained that:
Before I was a Christian, I used to do grime; things I maybe talk about was
violence, girls, and stuff like that. I can still talk about girls now [upon
becoming a Christian], but in the sense of how do I approach it? How does
my Christian lens help me view women? Things like respect; things like
purity.72
As indicated in Shardz’s statement, MCs use their lyrics as the primary expres
sive means to convey their Christian worldview, signifying how they “use [g]
ospel rap to endow their beliefs […].”73 As such, the most distinctive manifes
tation of the “sacred” in gospel grime performance, then, is the Christian-
orientated/biblically inspired lyrics of the MCs. The enmeshing of grime
“secular” music tools with the “sacred” lyrics of the MC reinforces the “sacred”
and “secular” interplay in gospel grime performance.
Interestingly, this syncretism engenders what Jones theorises as “sounded
convergence”.74 Using the concept to account for the gospel go-go75 tradition in
America, – which I also apply to gospel grime given the similarities which exist
in both genres sonic formations – Jones explains “sounded convergence” as “the
metaphoric sonic clash […] gospel go-go converts use to combine modes of
shared remembrance with Christian practice of setting themselves apart from
the former life.”76 Within gospel grime performances, the “sacred” and “secu
lar” is embodied through a “sounded convergence” demonstrated by how MCs
maintain their use of grime “secular” music tools to express their street-coded
and street-credible brand of black-British Christianity beyond the ideological
borders and concrete walls of institutionalised churches.
The Spatial Politics of the “Sacred” and “Secular” in Gospel Grime

Owing to their evangelical commitment to reach the unsaved, as well as their
personal desire to make Christianity relevant to their everyday lives, some
gospel grime MCs prefer to perform their street-credible brand of religio-musial
Christianity beyond the walls of “traditional” church spaces.77 Speaking on this,
Shardz explained:
I want to be able to invade secular spaces with the Gospel. So, wherever
God wants to take this gift, I am saying yes. If I get invited to go to a grime
event that’s not Christian to spray bars, I will go because I think we have a
common ground which is we love grime music but then I am bringing
something different.78
In view of Shardz’s statement, gospel grime represents a brand of black-British

Christianity primarily performed beyond the walls of institutionalised church
spaces. Since the emergence of the genre, MCs have taken to alternative
spaces – spaces one might consider as “secular” given its non-religious iden
tity– for the enabling of a gospel grime religio-cultural production. Some
times, the decision to perform beyond the “traditional” church spaces is owing
to a transgenerational history of aesthetic aversion and rejection from within
a range of conservative black majority Pentecostal churches towards popular
music orientated forms of worship engagements.79 In gospel grime culture,
MCs appropriate a variety of culturally familiar public and private “secular”
(non-religious) spaces such as street corners, council estate buildings, bed
rooms, car parks, disused buildings, and community centre to “fashion their
own ‘worship’ spaces.”80 At play here is what I theorise as a black religious
spatial practice; a process by which religious identities repurpose space for reli
gious experience. Reworked by their Christian-orientated musical and lyrical
practices, MCs convert non-religious “secular” spaces into “sacred” ground
(s). By way of their religio-musical practices within these reworked spaces,
MCs disrupt “the socially constructed and policed boundaries” between the
“sacred” and “secular”, Christianity and grime, “ministry and entertainment,
the church and the streets […],”81 demonstrating music’s role in the construc
tion of alternative sites for religious engagements. By performing in these (non
religious) alternative spaces, MCs demonstrate that, in fact, the institutionalised
church space “is not the primary location of power and performance.”82 And as
the history of black religious gatherings in Britain informs us,83 “that when the
traditional church is not available or displaced, other possibilities are actualised –
the body of Christ refigured.”84 Thus, the “sacred” and “secular” interplay, in
this instance, particularly as it relates to subject and space, is manifested by the
ways in which MCs (subjects) repurpose space (location) for the expression of
their Christian identities and evangelical commitments. By performing their
street-credible musical brand of Christianity within these alternative spaces, they,
in fact, perform “conscious expansions of the sacred beyond the church,”85 thus
enacting a culturally inherited black religious spatial practice within an myriad of
social spaces – namely, street corners, council estate buildings, bedrooms, car
parks, disused buildings, and community centres. Therefore, as Zanfagna con
cludes with regards to holy hip hop, and I observe to be evident with gospel
grime, “the ‘church’ in gospel rap practice cannot be understood as a fixed stage
but rather as a shifting ground.”86
The use of “secular” grime music aesthetics as an evangelical tool for the
evangelical purposes of invading secular spaces to reach the unsaved, as Shardz
informed me during an interview, demonstrates how the “sacred” and “secular”
interplay is embodied through the place and the people. Therefore, as suggested
in my interviews with gospel grime MCs, the enmeshing of grime (secular) and
Christianity (sacred) in overt forms is, to them, a way of doing evangelical
work beyond the building of institutionalised church. It is a culturally creative
means of spreading the Christian message to a cultural cohort (generation
grime) through the music and culture they love and are familiar with. Now I
wish to discuss how the “sacred” and “secular” are reflected in the live musical
performance context of gospel grime culture.
The “Sacred” and “Secular” as Performance Aesthetic in Gospel Grime

Live Performances
In the alternative spaces which enable the religio-cultural production of gospel
grime, we may read the “sacred” and “secular” through the live music-making
practice and performance aesthetics performed and embodied by MCs and
their audiences. Important to note is that a live performance within gospel
grime culture exemplifies the same performance aesthetics as any “secular”
(non-religious) grime live performance event. Unique to gospel grime gather
ings, however, is the Christian identity of the events. They demonstrate how
street-coded forms of Christian-orientated “worship”87 (“sacred”) and black
popular music performance (“secular”) seemingly overlap. For instance, in
these live performances we read the “secular” as the material embodiment of
urban fashion reflected in the attire of the MC and crowd, who are dressed in
grime-orientated88 streetwear – namely, tracksuits, trainers, t-shirts, jeans,
and flat-caps. Clearly, then, as Dehanas explains, “youth culture and fashion
bears it’s obvious marks” on street-coded manifestations of black-British
Christianities.89
Furthermore, the three-way participatory economy enacted between the MC,
DJ, and audience – all of whom are all dressed in grime-orientated urban
attire – reflect the commonality between non-religious grime (secular) and
gospel grime (sacred) performance.90 For instance, as it is observed in both live
performance spaces, the DJ is responsible for providing the musical backdrop
for the rap performance of the MC which solicits a three-way participatory
economy. In this three-way participatory performance culture, responding to
and supporting the MCs performance is a “hype” crowd91 who respond to the
shared performance between the MCs and DJ with a myriad of vocal and
bodily gestures: namely – shouts, screams, waving of hands, jumps, and body
sways. Whilst these performance vocabularies are evident in both grime musical
cultures, given the black charismatic church heritage of gospel grime MCs, they
are telling of the religio-cultural inheritance of gospel grime MCs received from
the black majority Pentecostal church space.
Therefore, referring to a point I made earlier in the discussion about gospel
grime MCs performing “conscious expansions of the sacred beyond the
church,”92 part of this “sacred” expansion is the extending of black majority
Pentecostal church aesthetics to gospel grime live performance spaces. In this
instance, the “sacred” accounts for an arsenal of culturally inherited perfor
mance gestures/devices from a range of charismatic black majority Pentecostal
churches (see below for a discussion of these gestures/devices). During inter
views, MCs informed me about their cultural ties to a range of black majority
Pentecostal churches – either through previously attending these worship con
texts during their upbringing or still attending them. Given this, the perfor
mance gestures/devices/vocabularies embodied within the live performance
space of gospel grime is, thus, demonstrative of the MCs religio-cultural
inheritance from a range of black majority Pentecostal churches. For instance,
observed in the live performance space of gospel grime, and evident within a
range of Black majority Pentecostal church spaces, is the call-and-response
device.
This participatory device and performance practice is the process by which
members of the music-making process – namely, the DJ, MC, and audience –
exchange and maintain dialogue with each other. This is evident in several
ways: either as musical phrases, vocable expressions, or bodily gestures. The
use of this device by the MC, DJ, and audience may suggest the shared reality
of living within the margins of society and the shared experience of having
Christianity and grime as musico-cultural system to help navigate inner-city
reality. Given the black majority Pentecostal church heritage of the MC and
some of the audience members, the participatory performance enacted between
the DJ, MC, and audience is illustrative of the participatory performance
between the black preacher,93 black church musicians, and congregations in a
range of Black majority Pentecostal churches in Britain and within the African
diaspora.
Speaking on the significance of this performance practice within black
majority church traditions, particularly black Christian faith institutions with
a charismatic orientation, in her work, Black Preaching Styles: Teaching,
Exhorting, and Whooping, Jackson explains that “the congregations response
plays a key role in the structure of the preachers […] delivery.”94 Likewise,
within the gospel grime live performance space, the call-and-response device,
as it is used by the Black preacher in the black church institution, works
towards “generating and maintaining the energy in a live performance set
ting.”95 Within black majority Pentecostal church spaces, call-and-response
devices quite often lead to forms of “spirit possession”.96 According to Reed,
“spirit possession” is a religious phenomenon “common to nearly all African
societies, one that underscores the boundless interchange between the physical
and unseen in African consciousness ” – a religio-cultural phenomena that is
evident within black majority Pentecostal church spaces and within the gospel
grime live performance space. In both spaces, “spirit possession” is the process
“[…] wherein an individual worshipper’s consciousness, emotional state, and
physical gestures are entirely subjugated to divine presence.”97 In both religio
cultural spaces, “spirit possession” is displayed via an assortment of vocable and
bodily gestures: head-nodding, hand clapping, hand-waving, foot-stomping,
screams, shouts.98 Whilst these gestures, performed within a range of Black
majority Pentecostal church spaces, are branded as “spirit possession”,
“catching the spirit”, “getting the holy ghost”, or “being filled”, in grime cul
tures it has been characterised by Charles as “the spirit on a hype”99 which,
within gospel grime cultures, I argue, is a culturally distinctive form of “spirit
possession” which MCs have culturally inherited from the black church space.
Therefore, the use of call-and-response by gospel grime MCs – who are pre
dominately black-British with a black majority Pentecostal church heritage –
creates a participatory economy reflective of black church cultural aesthetics.
The visibility of these culturally inherited performance aesthetics – or “shared
possessions” as Reed would have it – from the “sacred” space of black
majority Pentecostal church traditions and the live performance space of
gospel grime, demonstrates how, in fact, the “sacred” and “secular” overlap in
the context of gospel grime live performance cultures.
Furthermore, given that ritualised religious worship practices – namely,
prayers, bible readings, sermons, religious backdrops, and furniture – are
absent in gospel grime live performances, the unspoken “sacred” identity of
gospel grime, in the absence of the MC’s overtly Christianised lyrics, is, in
fact, inscribed on the body orality of the MC and their audience, demon
strating how gospel grime may be considered as forms of “Christian enter
tainment”100 which disrupts binary formations such as worship/entertainment
and sacred/secular.
The presence of these culturally inherited black “sacred” performance aes
thetics with gospel grime live performances, juxtaposed with borrowings from
“secular” (non-religious) grime performance practices – i.e., the DJ, celebrity
figure (MC), grime-orientated fashion, performance vernacular and non-reli
gious exterior backdrops and furniture, all of which are found in both non
religious grime and gospel grime, demonstrate how, indeed, the “sacred” and
“secular” overlap in gospel grime live performances. And because the visual
and sonic presentations observed in gospel grime (“sacred”) and non-reli
gious grime (“secular”) are similar,101 lyrics become the primary expressive
means to which we can account for the overt “sacred” identity in gospel
grime live performance cultures. After all, it is in the lyrics that we learn
more about the Christian-orientated worldview and lifestyle of gospel grime
MCs.102
Lyrics as a Portal into the “Sacred” Identity of Gospel Grime

A close textual analysis of several gospel grime lyrics reveal to us how
gospel grime MCs commitment to communicating Christian-orientated and
biblically informed narratives in an aesthetic format that is culturally mean
ingful to a cultural cohort who identify as Christians and grime. Lyrically,
MCs communicate to their audiences how the Christian God has delivered
them from a life of sin thereby celebrating deliverance from a former life of
decadence typically associated with “secular” grime social lifestyles and
activities.103
For instance, in his song, “I’m that kid”, Shardz raps:
I am that Christian Kid

Not going to change now, not going to switch
Can’t go back to the things I did
Coz I’m that Christian kid
Stay in the field
But nothing like mid
Worship big cos my God is big
Sinful life, had to get rid
Through life in Christ, had to get hid
In Christ a new creation. 104
Similarly, also rapping about “God’s soul-saving power”105 gospel grime

MC, A-Star, in his song, “E11 kid”, raps:
At 19 the Lord saved me,

Till this day iv gotta give thanks bruv
That’s a good look
106
saved by grace because my plans never look good.
As indicated in the above lyrical examples,107 gospel grime MCs favour lyrical
discourses which communicates their newly forged relationship with Chris
tianity even as they maintain their allegiance to the grime cultural community.
Using a diversity of rhetorical devices – such as clever wordplay, punchlines,
metaphors, similes, personification, repetition, narratives, exhortation/procla
mation, description108 – MCs communicate biblically-informed, Christ-centred,
and morally-instructive themes of reconciliation, redemption, salvation, perso
nal testimony through their lyrics. And whilst they, indeed, use “secular” grime
musical and visual aesthetics to embody and personify their black-British
Christian identities, unlike “secular” grime lyrics, violent themes and imagery
are off-limits in the lyrical space, even though they may reflect on the violence
they have seen or experienced. Since the sonic and visual profile of gospel grime
is like its “secular” (non-religious) counterpart, lyrics become critical in deci
phering difference between the two musico-cultural formats.
A Performance of Disruption: Disrupting “Sacred” and “Secular”

Binaries in Gospel Grime
Owing to the ways in which MCs embody the “sacred” and “secular” through
their performances, I make the case that MCs within the gospel grime religio
musical subcultural space perform a politics of disruption wherein they dis
rupt binary categorisations which often poses challenges to their enmeshed
subcultural identity.109 Guvna B, for instance, one of gospel grime’s pioneers,
expresses the existential challenges caused by “sacred” and “secular” binaries.
In his song, “Heart of a King” he raps: “too grimy for the church, but too
churchy for the grime scene."110 Two years later, in his album, “Everywhere +
Nowhere” he (re)asserts this struggle by stating: “its like I am half-rapper and
half-worship leader” The outcome of this struggle for MCs, primarily owing
to the fixed categorisations they contend with as a result of their enmeshed
subcultural identity (being Christian and grime), is a feeling of displacement
which ultimately leaves them situated within the nebulous ideological spatial
reality of “Everywhere + Nowhere”, as Guvna B’s album title suggests.111
Displacement, as they experience it, has had concrete financial implications on
their material livelihood, as Guvna B expresses in the song, “Everywhere +
Nowhere”.
The entanglement of the “sacred” and “secular” in the everyday lived
experiences of MCs, as well as how they embody both systems in their musical
performances, demonstrates how they continually resist and disrupt binary
formations; and how they navigate grime through Christianity – i.e., through
the use of grime aesthetics, lyrics, black-British street vernacular, visuals and
attire – and how, in turn, they explore Christianity through grime – based on a
life of Christian peculiarity112 which is a performance of resistance towards
social constructed lifestyles stereotypically associated with a grime social life
style. This entanglement reveals to us how MCs navigate complex negotiations
of the “sacred” and “secular”. Thus, to be a black-British Christian-orientated
MC who simultaneously identifies as Christian (“sacred”) and grime (“secular”)
is to engage in a politics of disruption; one which priorities the enmeshing of
the MCs dual identity formation.
Conclusion
This chapter has revealed the ways in which MCs perform the “sacred” and
“secular” in a myriad of personal and public performance contexts. As dis
cussed, as a deliberate choice, they choose to perform the “sacred” and “secu
lar” in geo-cultural spaces beyond the “sacred” borders of institutionalised
black majority Pentecostal churches. In this chapter it has become clear that the
“sacred” and “secular” interplay within gospel grime performances – as it is
embodied by the MCs by use of “secular” (non-religious) grime sonic tools,
black-British vernacular systems, street fashion, and black-British aesthetic
codes – reveals to us how MCs have created an alternative form of black-British
Christianity rooted in their inner-city lived experiences. As a religio-musical
form performed in alternative spaces, gospel grime demonstrates the ways in
which MCs continue to negotiate the complex terrains their dual identity for
mations creates (being Christian and grime, entertainer and worshipper, and
being “sacred and secular”). As it has been explored in this chapter, within this
evolving religio-musical space, they engage in a performance of resistance which
“disrupt[s] the socially constructed and policed boundaries between the sacred
and profane, ministry and entertainment, and the church and the streets.”113
And whilst gospel grime may hold contemporary currency given its emergence in
the twenty-first century, it is, nonetheless, rooted in the transatlantic genealogies
of black religious music which reflect “sacred” and “secular” musico-cultural
cross-fertilisations. Ultimately, the subgenre demonstrates how Christian-orien
tated subcultural identities continue to challenge, transverse, and disrupt
“sacred” and “secular” borders.
Notes
1 I use lower case for gospel grime throughout the discussion to suggest that there is
not one ultimate representation of grime music. Rather, as this chapter makes
clear, grime is represented differently by those who enable its cultural production,
which we observe with the manifestation of gospel grime, a Christian alternative
to its “secular” (non-religious) grime counterpart.
2 Whilst “gospel” as a genre classification is a contested term – one which, according
to Muir “carries multiple signifiers covering [Christianised]styles as diverse as
southern, country, ‘negro spirituals’, contemporary praise and worship,” reggae,
blues, RnB, and hip hop – in this research context, I am using it alongside grime to
refer to the enmeshing of grime and Christianity; a religo-musical subgenre rooted
in the genealogy of popular-music orientated black religious music. Pauline E.
Muir, “Sounds Mega: Music Discourse in Black Majority Churches in London”
(PhD thesis, University of London, 2018), 18.
3 I use the terms “sacred” and “secular” to account for the transgenerational dis
courses steeped in the cultural politics of “sacred” and “secular” narratives rooted
in the black sacred music tradition in the African diaspora. I use the term “secular”
to signify the ways in which black-British Christian-orientated grime MCs use
grime musico-cultural tools and performance aesthetics to embody their Christian
and evangelical identities. I use the term “sacred” to refer to the Christian-orien
tated imagery and biblically-informed lyrics of black gospel music subgenres – of
which gospel grime is a part of – whilst similarly accounting for them as forms of
worship and evangelical performances.
Historically, the “sacred” and “secular” dichotomy is a binary framework
rooted in premodern European religious thought. It seeks to make binary repre
sentations of what is considered good/bad, holy/profane, spiritual/worldly. How
ever, for African peoples, as Floyd has suggested in his work, The Power of Black
Music: Interpreting its history from Africa to the United States, there were no
formal distinction between sacred/secular. In fact, he asserts, “in traditional Afri
can culture, there was no formal distinction between the sacred and the profane
realms of life, or between material and the spiritual; thus there was in traditional
African no world for ‘religion’ because the Africans’ religion permeated and was
the basis for all aspects of life […].” Samuel A. Floyd, The Power of Black Music:
Interpreting Its History from Africa to the United States (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1995), 15. Thus, during the transatlantic slave trade, when
enslaved Africans were transported to the new world, they brought along with
them this cultural worldview. Contrary to European religious thought, the lines
between the “sacred” and “secular” have always been blurred. As Reed informs us
in her work, The Holy Profane: Religion in Black Popular Music, “the relationship
between sacred and secular has been a source of controversy in both the African-
American and the west-European musical traditions.” Teresa L. Reed, The Holy
Profane: Religion in Black Popular Music (Lexington, Ky: The University Press of
Kentucky, 2004), 1.
4 I use lower case for gospel grime throughout the discussion to suggest that there is
not one ultimate representation of grime music. Rather, as this chapter makes
clear, grime is represented differently by those who enable its cultural production,
which we observe with the manifestation of gospel grime, a Christian alternative
to its “secular” (non-religious) grime counterpart.
5 Gospel grime is culturally tied to a range of black majority Pentecostal churches
through the intergenerational heritage of MCs. In my interviews with gospel grime
MCs, they informed me that they have been part of black majority Pentecostal
church traditions from a young age given that they were raised in a Christian
household with parents who attended the church.
6 Black gospel music icons such as Thomas Dorsey, Mahalia Jackson, Rosetta Park,
Ray Charles, André Crouch, Edward Hawkins’ singers were significant gospel
music Icons who had utilised popular music formats for religious expression.
Interestingly, we also observe how gospel music Icons such as Rosetta Park and
Ray Charles took mobilised “sacred” music – music of the black church – into
“secular” spaces (nightclubs).
7 Dulcie A. Dixon McKenzie, “The Future of the Past: Forging a Historical Context
for Black Gospel Music as a Tradition amongst African Caribbean Pentecostals in
Post-war Britain,” (PhD thesis, University of Birmingham, 2014); Muir, “Sounds
Mega.”
8 Muir, “Sounds Mega,” 23.
9 Steve Alexander Smith, British Black Gospel: The Foundations of this Vibrant UK
Sound (Oxford: Monarch Books, 2009), 22.
11 McKenzie, “The Future of the Past”; Muir, “Sounds Mega.”
14 Smith, British Black Gospel; McKenzie, “The Future of the Past”; Muir, “Sounds
Mega.”
15 I use lower case intentionally here and subsequently throughout the discussion to
suggest that there is not one ultimate representation of hip hop; rather, hip hop is
represented differently by those who enable its cultural production.
16 Tricia Rose, Black Noise: Rap Music and Black Culture in Contemporary America
(Hanover, NH: Wesleyan University Press, 1994).
17 Laura Speers, Hip-Hop Authenticity and the London scene: Living Out Authenti
city in Popular Music. (New York: Routledge, 2017).
18 Speers, Hip Hop Authenticity and the London scene: Living Out Authenticity in
Popular Music, 13.
19 Rose, Black Noise.
20 Rose, Black Noise; Kitwana 2002, The Hip Hop Generation: The Crisis in African-
American culture; Imani Perry, Prophets of the Hood: Politics and Poetics in Hip
Hop (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2004).
21 See: Rose, Black Noise, 2–4.
22 Christian orientated identities had appropriated hip hop music, aesthetics lan
guage, street codes, to communicate their Christian worldview.
23 Also characterised as known as holy hip hop/gospel rap, Christian hip hop.
24 Zanfagna, “Building ‘Zyon’ in Babylon.”
25 See: Tony Cummings, “Britain’s Hip-Hop underground,” Cross Rhythms, 1
December 2000. Accessed on 18 September 2019. https://www.crossrhythms.co.
uk/articles/music/Britains_HipHop_Underground/41817/p1/.
In this article, Cummings surveys the Christian Hip Hop scene emerging from
the late 20th century. He identifies and discusses significant Christian hip hop
artists during the late 20th century whilst also highlighting artists in the early 21st
century (2000s).
26 Muir, “Sounds Mega.”
27 Shanesha R. F. Brooks Tatum, “Poetics with a Promise: Performances of Faith and
Gender in Christian Hip Hop” (PhD thesis, University of Michigan, 2010), x.
28 Cummings, “Britain’s Hip-Hop Underground.”
29 S.O.E. quoted in “S.O.E.: Son of Encouragement and a UK Gospel Hip-Hop Pio
neer,” Cross Rhythms, 29 September 2006. Accessed on 5 September 2020.
https://www.crossrhythms.co.uk/articles/music/SOE_A_Son_Of_Encouragement_
And_A_UK_Gospel_HipHop_Pioneer/24130/p2/.
30 Speers, “Hip-Hop Authenticity and the London scene: Living Out Authenticity in
Popular Music”.
31 Lisa Amanda Palmer, “The Politics of Loving Blackness in the UK” (PhD thesis,
The University of Birmingham, 2010).
32 Speers, “Hip-Hop Authenticity and the London scene: Living Out Authenticity in
Popular Music”. 27.
33 Monique Charles. “Grime and Spirit: On a Hype!” Open Cultural Studies 3, no. 1
(2019): 107.
34 Charles, “Grime and Spirit,” 107.
35 In his seminal work, The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double Consciousness,
Gilroy uses the concept of the Black Atlantic as a theoretical framework which
addresses the cultural and historical linkages unifying peoples of African descent
culturally, socially, politically, and economically throughout the diaspora. The
Black Atlantic, as a theoretical framework, has become a shorthand reference to
the cultural forms and production which have a transcultural dimension across
multiple sections and spaces of Black African diasporic cultures. Paul Gilroy, The
Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double Consciousness (Cambridge: Harvard Uni
versity Press, 1993).
38 Lee Barron, “The sound of the street corner society: UK grime music as ethno
graphy,” European Journal of Cultural Studies 16, no. 5 (October 2013): 532.
39 Using the timeframe set out by Charles in her work, Grime and Spirit: On a Hype!
early grime in this chapter refers to the period between “2000–2008.” Charles,
“Grime and Spirit,” 108.
40 Richard Bramwell, UK Hip-Hop, Grime and City: The Aesthetics and Ethics of
London’s Rap Scene (New York, NY: 2015).
41 Palmer, “The Politics of Loving Blackness in the UK,” 171.
42 Dan Curtis, “Gang Signs and Prayer – God and Grime Music,” Theos, 8 March
2018. Accessed on 20 April 2020. https://www.theosthinktank.co.uk/comment/2018/
03/08/gang-signs-and-prayer-god-and-grime-music.
43 Spencer Swain, “Grime Music and Dark Leisure: Exploring grime, morality and
synoptic control.” Annals of Leisure Research 21, no. 4 (2018): 484. For examples
of secular grime songs which reflect negative lyrics, see: Jeffrey Boakye, Hold
Tight: Black Masculinity, Millennials and the Meaning of Grime (London: Influx
Press, 2017).
44 Palmer, “The Politics of Loving Blackness in the UK,” 172.
45 Joy White, “(In)visible entrepreneurs: Creative Enterprise in the Urban Music
Economy” (PhD thesis, University of Greenwich, 2014), 20.
46 Boakye, Hold Tight, 74–75.
47 Based on how its cultural producers lyrically and metaphorically express “disin
genuous lifestyles.” Swain, “Grime Music and Dark Leisure,” 484.
48 A definition of gospel grime given to me by black-British gospel grime MC A-Star
in an interview. A-Star, interview by author, 03/03/2020.
49 Channel AKA was an urban TV station which “enabled lower specification DIY
videos” created by unsigned grime MCs. Monique Charles, “Hallowed be thy Grime?
A musicological and sociological genealogy of Grime music and its relation to black
Atlantic religious discourse” (PhD thesis, University of Warwick, 2016), 196.
50 Victizzle produced the beat.
51 The use of repeated eight or 16 cycled loops with an average tempo of 140bpm, a
melange of hard-hitting post-industrial sonic soundscape with MCs rapping with
fast-paced, intense vocals, and using distinctly British accents and Black-British
vernacular.
52 Swain, “Grime Music and Dark Leisure,” 485.
53 Significant to mention is that according to gospel grime MCs, “Bibles Bibles”, was
a Christian-orientated response to grime’s secular song, “POW! (Forward)” by
“secular” grime MC, Lethal Bizzle, in 2004. The lyrical content of “POW! (For
ward)”, as Hancox (2011) explains in his article, POW!:Anthem for Kettled Youth,
was a “litany of aggression” expressing both visual and ideological themes of vio
lence. See: Dan Hancox, “Pow!: anthem for kettled youth,” The Guardian, 3 Feb
ruary 2011. https://www.theguardian.com/music/2011/feb/03/pow-forward-letha
l-bizzle-protests.
54 Charles, “Hallowed be thy Grime?” 15.
55 Simply Andy, “Bibles Bibles,” Simply Andy presents The Good News EP, CD
(Baby Sync Publishing, 2005).
56 All MCs which featured on the album were male, demonstrating the male-cent
redness of gospel grime. MCs which featured on the album were: Guvna B, Leke,
Dwayne Tryumf, Jay Dolph, Presha J, J Vessel, Tru 2 Da Name, Rehma, A star,
Brandon, E Tizz, Armour, Jake, Lionel, Icie, Happy, Triple O, Mighty, Barney,
Favour, Victizzle, DDT, Stealth, Franklyn, Brewer, S.O; K.I.D, Daps, Serene, and
Threeface.
57 Daniel Nilsson Dehanas “Keepin’ it Real: London Youth Hip Hop as an Authentic
Performance of Belief.” Journal of Contemporary Religion 28, no. 2 (2013): 296.
58 Dehanas, “Keepin’ it Real,” 296.
59 Beats in grime sonic culture are rhythmic patterns which consist of sonic layers
created by a diversity of textures and timbres which, altogether, form into a
musical foundation over which MC present their lyrical offerings.
60 The sounds and textures in the beat are designed to sonically reflect everyday
inner-city life as well as the “gritty” and “grimy” working-class existential reality
of the MC.
61 Charles, “Hallowed be thy Grime?”; Charles, “Grime and Spirit.”
62 Whilst MCs announce the process in becoming a Christian, they do not recall the
exact moment in which the event took place or how it took form (except for the
year). However, the conversion event marks the process through which MCs dis
avow and distance themselves from the “disingenuous lifestyles” associated with
“secular” (non-religious) grime. For more about the “disingenuous lifestyles” of
grime MCs, see Swain, Grime music and dark leisure: exploring grime, morality,
and synoptic control.
63 Zanfagna, Holy Hip Hop in the City of Angels, 19.
64 These were statements made by MCs during interviews with me. Triple O (2020);
A-Star (2020); Shardz (2021), interviews by author.
65 Taking caution from Zanfagna who references the Comaroffs (1991), it is impor
tant for me as a researcher not to simplify this highly complex spiritual phenom
enon, especially given the “highly variable, usually gradual, often implicit, and
demonstrably ‘syncretic’ manner in which social identities, cultural styles, and
ritual practices” formulate their “evangelical identities” (Comaroffs 1991) cited in
Zanfagna, Holy Hip Hop in the City of Angels, 19.
66 Zanfagna, Holy Hip Hop in the City of Angels, 19.
67 Alisha Lola Jones, “‘We Are Peculiar People’: Meaning, masculinity, and compe
tence in gendered Gospel performance” (PhD thesis, The University of Chicago,
2015).
68 Jones, “‘We Are Peculiar People’,” 13.
69 Jones, “‘We Are Peculiar People’,” 61.
70 Brooks Tatum, “Poetics with a Promise.”
71 Boayke, Hold Tight; Swain, “Grime Music and Dark Leisure.”
72 Shardz, interview by author, 2020.
73 Dehanas, “Keepin’ it Real,” 296.
74 According to Jones, “sounded convergence” is “[…] the metaphoric sonic clash as
gospel go-go converts’ use to combine modes of shared remembrance with Chris
tian practices of setting themselves apart from their former life.” Jones, “‘We are
Peculiar People’,” xiii.
75 Like the gospel grime tradition in Britain, gospel go-go is a street-credible religio
musical brand of Christianity in which its cultural producers use street aesthetics
to explore their Christian orientated identities.
76 Jones, “‘We are Peculiar People’,” xiii.
77 Gospel grime MCs informed me that there were occasions where they were invited
to perform their street credible brand of Christianity in the traditional church
space; however, it was infrequent invitations and for church-orientated youth
events.
78 Shardz, interview by author, 2020.
79 McKenzie, “The Future of the Past”; Muir, “Sounds Mega.”
80 Jones, “‘We are Peculiar People’,” 27.
81 Christina Zanfagna, “Building ‘Zyon’ in Babylon: Holy Hip Hop and Geographies
of Conversion.” Black Music Research Journal 31, no. 1 (2011): 146.
82 Zanfagna, “Building ‘Zyon’ in Babylon,” 146.
83 McKenzie informs us on the ways in which African-Caribbean Christians who
were rejected in Britain’s mainline churches owing to the politics of race,
reformatted the “front room” space, usually the living rooms of migrants, for
worship purposes demonstrating a history of Black religious spatial practice.
McKenzie, “The Future of the Past.”
87 Manifestations of “worship” in the gospel grime space may not reflect the same
ritualised/choreographic representations of worship as found in several institutio
nalised black majority Pentecostal church spaces. “Worship” in the context of
gospel grime performance culture demonstrated using grime performance aesthetics
and performance structures.
88 I refer to the attire of gospel grime MCs due to the apparels and footwear asso
ciated with grime. In interviews with gospel grime MC, many of them referred to
sporting wear – namely Nike tracksuits and trainers (though not always from the
brand Nike), baseball caps, jeans, and t-shirts as grime-orientated urban fashions.
89 Dehanas, “Keepin’ It Real,” 300.
90 For examples from the early 2010s decade which illustrates the gospel grime live
performance aesthetics – namely, urban fashion, the three-way relationship
between the MC(s), the DJ, the crowd, and the multivalent performance modalities
which constitutes the three-way relationship – see the next ting 140 live events
(2009–2011): “GUVNA MUSIC PRESENTS…THE NEXT TINE 140! – UPRISE
LIVE,” UPRISE MUSIC TV, 14 December 2009. Accessed on 4 February 2023. http
s://www.youtube.com/watch?v=izJq8GUsnNk; “Next Ting Anthem – Next Ting
140 Collective Ft Dwayne Tryumf (Official Music Video),” NextTing140, 1 August
2011. Accessed on 15 March 2023. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=
d0oBgeDQWdM; “Gospel Cypher @ Next Ting 140: ‘Let’s Go’ [Live],” Gospel
Cypher, 22 September 2011. Accessed on 14 March 2023. https://www.youtube.
com/watch?v=xPhkGWMUvh0&t=108s. For more recent examples, see “Grime
Roots Live – Grime Cypher 4th Oct 2019,” Grime Roots, 29 January 2020. Acces
sed on 11 January 2023. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3gTMMorA7Fs&t=
815s; and “Gospel Grime Show | DJ Renz ft Tneek, Shardz, Guni, JoSoldier,
Unique Creation, Feed’Em & C33J,” Feed’Em Session, 13 February 2020. Accessed
on 15 January 2023. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ahUaOVJT8N0&t=60s.
91 See: Charles, “Grime and Spirit.”
93 I refer to the black preacher here because, according to Perry, “[t]he MC sees
himself as a kind of preacher, a traditional space of authority for black men.”
Perry, Prophets of the Hood, 153.
94 Jackson, Black Preaching Styles: Teaching, Exhorting, and Whooping, 10.
95 Charles, “Hallowed be thy Grime,” 311.
96 Teresa L. Reed, “Shared Possessions: Black Pentecostals, Afro-Caribbeans, and
Sacred Music,” Black Music Research Journal 2, no. 1 (2012): 6.
97 Reed, “Shared Possessions”, 6.
99 Charles, “Grime and Spirit.” In this article, Charles points out the various perfor
mance gestures which signifies the MC’s “spirit on a hype”. I make the claim that
within gospel grime performance cultures, given the MCs cultural ties to black
majority Pentecostal churches, these gestures are characteristics of what Reed
qualifies as “spirit possession”, thus making gospel grime an extension of the black
Pentecostal tradition.
100 Monique Marie Ingalls, “Awesome in This Place: Sound, Space, and Identity in
Contemporary North American Evangelical Worship” (PhD thesis, University of
Pennsylvania, 2008), 156.
101 Similarities in street-credible fashion and performance presentation (namely, the
three-way interplay between the MC, DJ, and crowd).
102 In the absence of the MC Christian-orientated and biblically-informed lyrics,
gospel grime performances exhibit the same performance qualities exemplified in
“secular” (non-religious) grime performances.
103 Boayke, Hold Tight.
104 Shardz, “I’m that kid”, track 1 on Grace, Flows, Bars, Content, Shardz, 2020.
105 David L. Moody, Political Melodies In The Pews?: Is Black Christian Rap the New
Voice of Black Liberation Theology? (PhD thesis, Bowling Green State 2010), p.
66.
106 A Star, “E11 Kid,” track 1 on Born & Raised, AstarMusicUk, 2020.
107 For lyrical examples which communicate gospel grime MCs deliverance from sin
and worldliness, see gospel grime album: Guvna B, Guvna Music Presents: Next
Ting 140 – The Very Best of UK Gospel Grime, Spotify. (Guvna Music, 2011).
Accessed on 10 June 2019. https://open.spotify.com/album/4yY64WtNcnyGNFo8
hUqWs3. The song, Metamorphosis, within the album, is a good example of this.
108 Perry, Prophets of the Hood.
109 Alluding to this, in his song “Everywhere + Nowhere,” Guvna B laments the
challenges of his subcultural identity.
110 Guvna B, “Heart of a King,” track 2 on Hands are Made for Working (Allo Mate
Records, 2018).
111 Guvna B, Everywhere + Nowhere (Allo Mate Records, 2020).
112 Jones, “‘We are Peculiar People’.”
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7 Don’t Shoot the Messi(nJ)ah’
Charting the Growth of the Gospel in Great
British Grime Music
Monique Charles
Introduction
This chapter explores overt JudeoChristological references in the 21st-century
Black British popular music genre of grime. Rooted in Black British under-
ground music, when grime emerged at the turn of the 21st century, it was lar-
gely demonised and censored in the mainstream media and by politicians.
Grime music was made the scapegoat for social ills amongst Britain’s youth,1
particularly Black inner city youth and aligned with criminality and deviance.
The British narrative around grime emerged at a time when US hip hop and
r’n’b was accused of being demonic music. African American Pastor Craige
Lewis’ DVD The Truth About Hip Hop detailing the demonic nature of hip
hop and r’n’b, was being circulated in Black British youth ministries circa
2005.2 It was brought to my attention when attending a Charismatic church in
London (UK) and in discussion with someone that attended a Black Pentecos-
tal church in Luton (UK) amongst others. At this time, it should be noted that
Black British music scenes remained largely underground (and censored), with
mainstream Black music influences (also demonised by politicians) coming
from the US. Despite the specificity of Black British life and the diversity of
Blackness within this, Lewis’ presentation of hip hop and r’n’b as demonic was
circulated by Black British churches and communities and youth were dis-
suaded from it. By 2009 rumours of Illuminati and secret societies in music had
mainstreamed internationally3 and beyond the church.
Debates around Black music and religion have been dominated by the
American narrative. However, Black Britons who are inherently diverse in
terms of ethnicity, national histories and culture, have different and complex
histories, religious practices in connection to music alongside the common
experience of living in Britain. This chapter contextualises the specificity of the
21st century British context in terms of religious belief, Afrodiasporic ethnicity
and mainstream British attitudes towards youth in the 2000s. It primarily
examines the albums of four Black British male grime MCs, i.e. Dizzee Rascal,
Wiley, Ghetts and Stormzy to explore their responses to the social context,
theistic belief and religious symbolism in music between the early 2000s and
2020 to establish whether they are Messi(nJ)ahs.
148 Monique Charles
The term I coined, Messi(nJ)ah, elucidates multiple aspects of the MC,
including their actions and example, and/or the functions of their work;
enabling the opportunity to consider whether one can find Christ – the Messiah
or God (also known as Jah in Rastafarianism) symbolically, ideologically,
theistically, in lyrics and iconography and/or phenomenologically. Are MCs
messengers spreading the JudeoChristological word or uncovering sociopolitical
contexts to listeners? Rather than shooting the messenger/Messi(nJ)ah – a
practice adopted by mainstream British society toward the youth and Black
British youth in particular, or demonising Black music, the chapter explores
what Messi(nJ)ahs have to say. I argue grime music provided a function of
initiation and membership for youth transitioning into adulthood in British
society. It assisted listeners in negotiating their identity and private troubles
(emotional, mental, spiritual wellbeing) in response to hostile British public
issues (racism, classism, anti-youth).4
Sacred and Profane – the Dominant Narrative

The 20th century American Christian perspectives around the sacred and pro
fane have dominated the mainstream narrative in Britain owing to the US being
a cultural superpower. As a cultural superpower, its influence includes, amongst
other things, substantive ideological and musical exports. Thus, the export of
normative ideas around music, including Black music and how these intersect
the sacred and the profane meant that Black American music was adopted and
accepted in Britain, in both Black British churched and unchurched commu
nities. Historically however, Sylvan points out that of all enslaved Africans
taken to the New World, that had their own musico-religious practices and
outlooks, only a small proportion were brought to the US.5 The overwhelming
majority (and their outlooks and practices) were taken to South America and
the Caribbean. It is also worth noting that ‘In the native culture of the first
Africans transplanted to the New World, a “non-religious” category of music
didn’t exist.’6 Mbiti identifies for example that in diverse African traditions,
music was not compartmentalised or separated out for religious purposes.7
Religion and the spirit formed part of everyday life practices to help individuals
make sense of the world. Any adjustment around the purpose of music were
externally imposed/rationalised by the coloniser.
Although transatlantic slavery went on for centuries, ‘by 1860, 99% of
[enslaved Africans] in the US were native born, and most of them were 2nd–5th
generation.’8 This implies African Americans had a more isolated and distant
connection to Africanised musico-religious practice when compared to South
American and the Caribbean regions that continued to receive enslaved Africans
until later periods. Before American independence, the US was British ruled and
Protestant. These factors influenced the ways enslaved Africans in the US could
engage with their traditional musico-religious practices (with the exception of
New Orleans – French colonies had different controls enabling traditional reli
gious practices to continue with less interference in this region).
Don’t Shoot the Messi(nJ)ah 149
Over time, however, even with substantive isolation from Africanised
musico-religious practice and Protestant controls, African Americans adopted
and altered traditional practices to fit e.g., ‘Instead of identifying with the pos
sessing spirit of loa or orisha, the Holy Spirit was said to have come upon the
shaking person. Instead of speaking with the voice of the deity, the person was
said to be speaking in tongues…’9
Although contested, it should be noted that Protestantism generally adheres
to a binary construction that separates a) the sacred i.e., what is holy and for
the worship of God, and b) the profane i.e., everything else.10 Understandings
of music were also categorised according to this binary. The merging of Afro
diasporic musico-religious practice and Protestantism and/or its derivatives
created tensions around the purpose of music and practices on North American
soil. Pentecostal and Baptist churches, both of which have histories of large
African American following/membership11 where altered traditional practices
take place, are Christian denominations rooted in Protestantism. Additionally,
the home of modern ‘secular’ or non-religious music, i.e., Jazz and Blues
emerged in New Orleans (which had different colonial controls) and ‘…the
Black Pentecostal church was receptive to secular musical influences.’12 Not
only were they receptive, Reed argues that ‘…Pentecostalism was the primary
spiritual influence upon the pop music of the 1950s’;13 a crucial time in the
history of the music industry, the development of the teenager, increased dis
posable income and the emergence of pop music and culture in the US. Com
bined, these secured its cultural superpower status and resulted in the US
having significant influence over the perception of Black music on an interna
tional scale, in the latter half of the 20th century (despite the comparatively
smaller proportion of enslaved Africans originally brought to the US initially).
Paradoxically, Black Britain is largely composed of people with a compara
tively ‘recent’14 Caribbean or West African ancestry due to substantial migra
tion to Britain from these regions after the Second World War, i.e., since
1948.15 Comparatively it is a newer Black identity. Black migrants to Britain
too, have histories with varying degrees of enslavement, and colonisation, and
therefore adjusted Africanised musico-religious practices and outlooks in
accordance to those. Despite the diversity of Blackness in Britain, many Black
Britons have an awareness of, or have adopted, Eurocentric Christian view
points and outlooks to varying degrees due to Britain being a historically
Christian nation (since enlightenment) and/or encountering the British as a
domineering colonial force.
Black Britain
Black British music forms are created by people with diverse ancestry, with the
majority having routes and roots through the Caribbean and West and Central
Africa. Black British identities are shaped by international familial ties and
cultural exports (including the US) around Blackness16 and their cities.17 Ideas
around identity, music, gender and religiosity are shaped and expressed in
150 Monique Charles
diverse ways. Beckford points out that theology cannot be divorced from the
social contexts it takes place in.18 He argues both music and theistic belief are
mechanisms used for redemption and freedom under racially oppressive regimes
(such as Black life in Britain). Music, religion, and subcultural practice provide
a space for meaning making, safety19 and resistance.20 They can act as
mechanisms to fight for social justice. In 1970s Britain, for example, many
Black youth engaged with Rastafarianism, engaging religiously, stylistically and/
or culturally through reggae music. Through referencing Jah (God) and social
injustice in reggae music, they spoke truth to power, ‘chant(ed) down Babylon’
(i.e. oppressive Eurocentric race and class based systems)21 and formed racial
solidarity. The theistic belief structure behind reggae music may have differed
from their own practiced or familial religion, but ultimately it assisted young
people in developing their own identity, independent of family and mobilised
diverse Black Britons (and other groups) in the belief and desire that God/Jah
would bring social and racial justice.
The generation responsible for the birth of early 2000s grime (i.e. Black
British Millennials/Gen Y), had varying levels of church participation to their
African, Caribbean great grandparents, grandparents and/or parents (who lar
gely adhered to Christianity), that migrated and settled in Britain. However,
Black born Britons tended to have lower attendance than their migrating for
bearers.22 Caribbeans migrating in substantial numbers since 1948 began setting
up and running their own churches. West Africans migrating in substantial
numbers since the 1980s, began setting up and running their own churches.
Amongst youth more generally, religious belief amongst of 16- to 24-year-olds
in Britain had dropped from 68% to 53% between 1983 and 2012.23 Interest
ingly, despite the decline Black British youth were found to have stronger reli
gious belief than their white counterparts.24 At the time of grime’s emergence,
the de-churched (those that believe in God but do not attend church) out
numbered those who believe and attend church on a regular weekly or monthly
basis by 2:1.25 With these with findings, one to posit that the Black dechurched
population, likely make up a higher proportion of dechurched British believers.
This suggests a likelihood of Black grime music creators having some theistic
belief as a minimum regardless of church attendance.
By 2006, Pentecostal (and Charismatic) churches were the fastest growing
group of Christian churches in the UK.26 In London, church attendance
increased in boroughs with higher concentrations of Black people.27 Forty-eight
percent of Black people in Britain that attended church during the noughties
attended Black Majority Churches in particular (whychurch.org), suggesting an
increase in, or concentration of, church attendance. Adedibu found that Black
Majority Churches, particularly comparatively newer, West African churches
(since the 1990s), sought to ‘reverse missionary’ and recruit all, including white
British people to their congregations.28 However, these churches principally
attracted people of similar ethnic and racial groups, and new migrants from
similar backgrounds, looking for a religious home in Britain.
Concurrently, in the noughties there were shifts within the Black British
demographic itself. The largest group previously had Jamaican ancestry;29 this
shifted during the noughties to Nigerians30 who through both migration and
birth made the largest number. Having set up and increased Black Majority
Churches since the 1990s, West African churches attracted migrants (and their
families) from destinations of the same or similar national, racial and or ethnic
backgrounds, in London where the Pentecostal church and its attendance grew
rapidly.31 This suggests that it is likely that many Black children (under 16s) in
London (i.e., the birthplace of grime) during the time period, 1983–2012 (i.e. the
future pioneers of grime) were attending church with their (migrant) families.
These findings also provide some answers of the terrain for young Black Britons
(16–24) in the late 1990s and 2000s in terms of shifting demography, theistic
popularity, church attendance and the significance of race and possibly ethnicity
in attendance choice.
Rite-ing Wrongs
In the 2000s, Harris found that British society’s inability to systematically reg
ulate/monitor/survey youth creative expression and/or youth presence in public
places was a source of fear to some adults.32 Working class British youth, more
generally, have historically been a vilified, ‘othered’ and criminalised group by
the government. As such, they have been the focus of policy and legislation for
more than 200 years.33 Each new generation of young people is portrayed as
folk devils34 and the source of moral panic. Youth culture, particularly British
Black youth culture, a comparatively new identity, is approached as a proble
matic, deviant,35 criminal and animalistic36 and set against dominant culture.
Black youth are seen as needing containment, controls or eradication37 from
public life. Racism has also meant that 21st-century Black British youth have
been systematically stigmatised and have experienced the same systems of
rejection as their parents and grandparents living in Britain,38 i.e., presented as
criminals, (i.e. hoodies, gang members or drug dealers), disaffected or disen
gaged from society (NEETs),39 alongside older narratives where Black youth
were presented as muggers, educationally subnormal and ‘looking suspicious’ as
a means to justify stop and search (harassment) by the police. Legislation since
the eve of 21st century has seen the introduction of ASBOs40 and other social
exclusion initiatives,41 Form 696,42 CBOs,43 dispersal orders44 that dis
proportionately affect working class youth (Black males in particular) in public
and leisure space (during a phase in their lives where they seek to find their
identity though musical and cultural means).
Many young people, caught in the difficult transitional time between ado
lescence and adulthood, seem to crave the intense initiatic experience, the
sense of solidarity and community, the expression of oppositional values
which subculture provide… While the mainstream religious institutions
become more and more irrelevant to the lives of many young people, they
152 Monique Charles
find some fundamental need for spiritual expression fulfilled by these
musical subcultures.45
Unlike Britain that has a history of fearing, demonising and criminalising its
youth, there are religious and cultural practices elsewhere that celebrate young
people coming of age. Jewish Bar/Bat Mitzvas, Japanese Seijin no Hi, Hispanic
Quinceanera, Ethiopian Cattle Jumping and Chinese Ji/Guan Li are just some
of the examples, where ceremonies initiate young people into adulthood or
mark their transition into adult society as a rite of passage. Whilst it is possible
migrant communities in Britain celebrate and initiate their youth into their
respective adult society, this is not a feature in Black Majority Churches or in
wider British society. In noughties Britain, young people felt disconnected,
marginalised and excluded from society.46 Particularly for Black British youth,
Reynolds found ‘same-ethnic’ friendships were valuable social capital in
response to the marginalisation process that sorts young people transitioning
into adulthood along racial silos.47 Bonds based on locale i.e., ‘Our Area
Semantic identity’48 can fracture transitions into adulthood further, along very
localised49 (thus classed) silos (e.g. postcode wars, representing your ‘ends’).
Adolescence is a time where young people explore or assert their identity,
including beliefs and values through memberships. Both Gilroy and Beckford
found that music provides Black British youth with a space to resist norms and
values that oppress them.50 DIY music provided the space through which 21st
century Black British youth (particularly males) could explore identity, mem
berships and beliefs in a society that fears them and does not seek to initiate
them into, nor the church accounted for. In the context of the 2000s Black
Majority Church, musical exploration in relations to hip hop (and American
music) consumed in Britain, was largely rebuffed, aligning with American
Christian perspectives.
US Pastor Lewis’ DVD circulating in Black British churches, in the 2000s
could not take into consideration a) Black British underground music, that has
a different history and was already censored by the British authorities (e.g.
pirate radio), b) British music scenes (that has a history of heavy policing), c)
the ethnic diversity of Black British youth or d) the complexity of their theistic
or religious belief. The DVD’s message was misaligned. Ironically, in the British
context, the DVD bolstered the mainstream British narrative demonising Black
British youth and their musical choices as they sought, like other young people,
to explore their identity independently from their families, potentially further
ing their sense of isolation.
Black youth made their distinct sound during this period. Through grime,
young people created their own British identity. Charles found grime operated
as a safe space of Black British expression of (masculine) self-validation.51
Black males could express pride in their Britishness, lived experiences, past
times, locations and reference things that were attainable or desirable to them
and their peers (e.g. motorbikes and Nike branded apparel). Charles argues
that the music made, a sonic footprint timestamp (SFT) (i.e., a time and
location specific articulation or evidence of existence), where young people
initiate themselves and announce their arrival as a rite of passage into British
citizenship and create their own community.52
What is Grime?
Grime is a Black British, technology dependent, DIY, male dominated genre of
music originating from London’s subaltern inner cities.53 Sonically it has lo-fi,
gritty, raw, grimy and unrefined qualities. At its earliest stages in the 2000s, it
was fast paced (140 bpm) and comprised of repeated eight or 16 bar cycles. It
prioritised heavy synths, low frequencies – basslines and dub54 alongside a sense
of vast space. MCs ‘spit’ (rap) in British accents, regional slang and Jamaican
infused accents and patois with relentless velocity. The scene was entrepre
neurial in nature. Built by Britain’s folk devils, TV news coverage and print
media reported criminal activity and associated it with Black youth and the
emerging genre. This created ‘An implicit link… between criminality and the
music genre.’55
Grimes Messi(nJ)ahs
With the focus on grime and JudeoChristological references in the remainder of
this chapter, albums of key MCs (Messi[nJ]ahs) have been selected to explore
theistic belief, overt religious references and responses to social realities. All
MCs are Londoners, two have West African heritage, two are of Caribbean
heritage. Dizzee Rascal’s (West African) Boy in da corner 56 and Wiley’s (Car
ibbean) Treddin’ on thin ice 57 are from the ‘first wave’ or early underground
grime. The remaining two albums, Stormzy’s (West African) Gang Signs &
Prayer 58 and Ghetts’ (Caribbean) Ghetto Gospel: The New Testament, 59 were
released in the following decade, in the latter half of the 2010s. Choosing two
albums from each period straddles the time of documented Afrodiasporic
change and the growth of Pentecostal and Charismatic churches in Britain,
particularly London. It provides the opportunity to explore grime teleologically
(i.e., over its growth), to see if it has changed over time. This section also
briefly discusses gospel grime (which emerged shortly after grime in the mid
noughties) to establish key characteristics of the music for comparative pur
poses with the grime albums explored here. The term ‘gospel grime’ is used by
gospel grime artists themselves to distinguish themselves from grime, and, in
doing so, introduce and reinforce the sacred and profane dynamic within the
genre.
A JudeoChristological analysis of these albums will consider the:
a Substantive; externally observable symbols of organised religion, e.g. ico

nography (album covers), thematic lyrical analysis within theological fra
meworks to reveal theism, symbolism and Holy/ontological moral faith
(God’s grace and mercy), fear and wonder.60
154 Monique Charles
b Phenomenological; perception, lived experience and common religious
themes across different historical and sociopolitical contexts.
c Functionalist; what religion does for the artist and potentially does or
could do for the listener.61
Noughties
Wiley’s Treddin’ on thin ice (2004)62 and Dizzee Rascal’s Boy in the corner
(2003)63 are pioneering albums of the genre. Lyrical analysis uncovers themes of
questioning, suffering, fear and explorations around acceptance in response to
daily life. They are often introspective first-person narratives; encouraging or
challenging peers, expressing angst, sharing realities/social realism, despair,
explorations of masculinities and braggadocio. There are very few overt reli
gious references in these albums, other than Dizzee praying to escape the stress
and angst he experiences in the song ‘Do It!’. He does not indicate who he is
praying to, but it is evident he feels completely alone and isolated.
Both album titles suggest precariousness or vulnerability, i.e. being on thin
ice or backed into a corner. These titles mirror the position young Black males
found themselves in 2000s’ Britain. Iconography of Dizzee Rascal’s album
effectively shows him backed into a corner, but significantly his hands and fin
gers are positioned to represent horns and can be interpreted as a representation
of the devil or evil in Judeo Christological framings or the new British folk
devil in a socio-political context.64 His image is monochrome against a vibrant
yellow background. Wiley’s album shows the back of a lone hooded figure
(Wiley) outside in the cold, suggesting harshness, coldness and isolation. The
colours are faded. His name is directly placed over the impact point that
damages the entire album cover. Cracks radiate from his name across the entire
cover, suggesting his potential to make an impact, disrupt and/or damage. The
lyrical and visual references on these albums appear to be much more literal
and addresses personal problems (emotional, mental) with an awareness of how
one is perceived by society. These pioneering albums are not religious nor
centre JudeoChristological references. Sharing one’s experiences, expressing
fears (but not to/of God) and being heard take priority. These albums were
released before widely accessible social media and as such, these Messi[nJ]ahs
formed connections between marginalised young people by being seeing, heard,
relatable and sharing experience through musical space.
#HBTG?
Since the mid-noughties, gospel grime MCs such as Victizzle, overtly reference
prayer (e.g. Jam Yourself, iPray65). Guvna B incorporates dance moves in
‘Kingdom Skank’66 and Simply Andy’s references Bible scripture in ‘Bibles
Bibles.’67 This inadvertently illustrates that young Black Britons of faith, parti
cularly those who attended church, engaged with or were exposed to, grime
music and that there were sonic and/or lyrical themes that resonated with Black
British youth that attended church. The sonic characteristics of the pioneering
grime albums and gospel grime songs, belong to the same musical families.
They prioritise similar sonic features and have similar vocal delivery styles.
However, the ideology and messages relayed were different; with early grime
employing the human, sociopolitical and emotional experiences and gospel
grime employing moral, sacred and theistic ones.
Gospel grime MCs/artists explicitly reference God, Biblical scriptures and
people, Jesus Christ and adhered most strongly with traditional Christian
understandings of sacred music (i.e., for religious use or of religious influence).
Gospel grime songs question their listeners about moral choices, encourage the
reading of the Bible and reference passages. They advocate for doing ‘good’,
sowing His seed, praying and praising God. Moral faith and wonder are the
primary focus. The binary between the sacred and profane is clear. The lyrics
largely preach to listeners. Lyrically, gospel grime MCs consistently present the
case that the resolution to any issue is primarily in the sacred where they are
located. Sometimes the listener is positioned as an outsider that should consider
Christianity. Other times, the listener is also an insider of Christian faith. The
binary demonstrates an acceptance of negative mainstream ideas about what
outsiders are doing. Gospel grime MCs are Messi[nJ]ahs explicitly spreading
the word of God and what Jesus has done.
Rumination
After the birth of gospel grime, both Dizzee and Wiley refer to God in their
later work. This may be a sign of personal maturity and life experience, or a
shift in ideas around the appropriateness discussing God in grime. In single
‘It’s Wiley (Showa Eski)’,68 Wiley states that he walks with God who is The
One determining the length of his life. Wiley outlines he walks in his purpose
and tells listeners (and those he visits in the song) that he has been sent by
God the Father. This lyrical message is dispersed alongside more mundane
experiences, braggadocio asserting masculinity, luxury or desirable material
items and the love of family. Wiley, the godfather of grime, refers to the success
he has garnered through his musical endeavours, as a kingdom. In Wiley’s king
dom, he has the power to bring those who have a strong work ethic along with
him. This has parallels with Jesus who had disciples, built a following and spoke
of the kingdom of God and its accessibility by going through and believing in Him:
‘I am the way the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through
me.’69
Wiley uses himself as an example, reminding listeners about the importance
of personal responsibility and the hunger for success. His lyrics illustrate theistic
belief in God and His role as Wiley’s protector in the face of his enemies, a life
orchestrator, responsible for gifting him with his craft, and providing him with his
success as a symbol of what is possible despite coming from a marginalised posi
tion in British society. God elevated Wiley beyond the British public issues of
156 Monique Charles
classism, racism and vilifying its youth. Wiley’s relationship dynamic to God in this
song is also comparable to that of Jesus Christ or God using the meek (i.e. Wiley)
for transformative testimonies. Although Wiley is not suggesting a transforma
tional ‘before and after’ encounter with God or Christ in his life in a traditional
Pentecostal style to indicate his life was ‘turned around’, Wiley openly acknowl
edges God as a significant presence in his life that gives him power.
In Dizzee Rascal’s song ‘God Knows’,70 featuring MC P. Money, Dizzee makes
direct and overt religious references. The song opens with ‘Chapter 1 Verse 1’, the
format adhering to methods used to locate biblical scriptures. In this song he
declares God knows him, understands him and his intentions, challenges, drives
and desires. He lives with good intentions but is not a pushover. He speaks of
methods used to work through mental anguish in the past and talks about his
growth in this area. In line with more traditional grime ideology the song includes
braggadocio which he attributes to his ‘natural’ ability and talent and that he
reigns (a suggestion of a kingdom, empire or hierarchy). Socio-politically, P
Money, discusses mundane experiences, the British public issue of racism and
racial profiling. He discusses how his Black masculinity affects his interactions,
such as in professional spaces (predominantly white Dubstep music scenes) or in
interracial romantic relationships (white dads disliking him as their daughter’s
partner). Dizzee speaks to listeners about personal responsibility and without it
people will need the help of Jesus. ‘God knows’ may imply personal experiences
with grace and mercy that enable Dizzee to declare that God knows, but they are
not elaborated on.
For Wiley and Dizzee who began with questioning, angst and introspection
in their early 2000s pioneering albums, seeking to outmanoeuvre their lived
realities through hard work or sleeping forever, God has become an overt
reference to their journey through life and career. God bolsters their masculi
nity and braggadocio claims and separates them from the rest. God has given
talent, knows intentions, protects and lays a path for them. God can be trusted
over people. God has enabled them to lead. The songs suggest a personal rela
tionship with God – alongside the mundane and everyday practices that keep
them moving forward. These songs show that introspection and questioning from
their pioneering albums, has, at some level led to public declaration of, or testifying
belief. For these two, theistic belief and relationship with God transforms personal
troubles. These songs do not explore God’s mercy, grace, fear or wonder. These
songs hold true to the original grime ideology and aesthetic of centring oneself in
the narrative and in proximity to others to demonstrate ones’ hierarchical posi
tion,71 including to God and His role in securing it for them. Now, these two Messi
[nJ]ahs show what aligning with God can do for one’s life.
2010s
The two other albums explored here are Ghetts’ Ghetto Gospel: The New
Testament (2018) and Stormzy’s Gang Signs & Prayer (2017), where both
artists publicly acknowledge their Christian faith.72 Both albums were released
in the latter half of the 2010s, where Black British music and artists have
become overtly recognised as part of mainstream British youth culture. In the
2010s Black British artists had greater autonomy over their music due to tech
nological democratisation, but also due to the entrepreneurial roots connected
grime music and scenes. They collaborate with international artists and MCs
have a greater appreciation of their potential to influence wider publics.73 Sig
nificantly, with these developments, MCs can now represent themselves more
fully and share the complexities of their questioning and introspection, theistic
belief, mental health and publicly challenge/question the very society, govern
ment and politicians that condemn and vilify them as folk devils in ways that
were not possible previously (in music and social media).
Liturgical Lyrics, Iconic Imagery

The iconography of both 2010 albums have overt JudeoChristological refer
ences and symbolism. The album cover for Ghetto Gospel: The New Testament
shows a painted image (reminiscent of a religious mural) of Ghetts holding a
rosary; Catholic (Christian) beads, whilst bowing his head and holding his
hands in a prayerful position. Whilst Catholicism is not the focus of this chap
ter, it is a Christian denomination adhered to by some Black Britons. The
rosary’s presence on the album cover and Ghetts’ prayerful gesture displaying
theistic belief in God and Christ. The rosary’s crucifix is the central feature of
this image. Although the viewer is looking at Ghetts, Ghetts is focussed on
God. Ghetts is behind Christ, Christ is his shield. Ghetts’ gesture presents as if
he is before the potential listener/viewer, offering up the album as a (Ghetto)
Gospel. Ghetts’ former stage name, Ghetto, suggests that the album is actually
named after himself and thus, his Gospel, his prayer or Good News. The album
title itself makes reference to both rapper Tupac Shakur’s74 song ‘Ghetto
Gospel’ and the Bible, which has Gospels and other books forming its New
Testament section. Ghetts’ The New Testament implies this is an additional
instalment. Ghetts’ previous mixtape (or Old Testament) entitled Ghetto
Gospel was released in 2007.
Songs in the New Testament album overtly praise God in accordance to
classic understandings of gospel, or gospel grime as outlined previously i.e.
lyrical content focusing on God, biblical scripture or questioning morals. Ghetts
makes references to being protected by God, seeking protection and guidance
from God and angels as well as praising Him throughout the album. He refers
to his own bars (lyrics/raps), as scriptures and includes an excerpt of a woman
declaring that Ghetts’ sharing his creative talent is him following his calling
(‘Halloween’). Sonically, Ghetts includes classic sounds of gospel singers (‘Hand
on the Bible’) and church bells (‘Halloween’) in the album. Ghetts prays. He
asks for forgiveness, shares his spiritual battles and how he navigates these
challenges, whilst keeping the honouring God and Jesus as a central focus;
he does not want to make Him cross (i.e. angry or upset). Ghetts says the
belief in God is the most important, no matter the religion (even though he
158 Monique Charles
himself adheres to JudeoChristological frameworks). Theistic and religious
messages are dispersed among topics such as of life ‘on road’, institutional
racism, colourism, loss, terminal illness, murder, the spectacular, mundane,
lived experiences, sociological issues and morality. He tells listeners stories
in a relatable way, like Jesus did (parables) to provoke introspection and
reflection. Becoming aware that his mixtape Ghetto Gospel ‘touched
people’,75 Ghetts wanted to raise serious social topics ‘…I wanted to write
a song where I didn’t judge anybody because I know what some of these
kids are going through…’.76 Ghetts expresses moral faith and is thankful
for God’s mercy and grace (e.g. not counting his errors). This album
overtly praises God symbolically, phenomenologically and functionally
throughout.
The iconography of Stormzy’s debut album Gang Signs & Prayer 77 shows
Stormzy directly facing the viewer surrounded by anonymous Black men i.e.,
‘Man Dem’ (wearing balaclavas) staring directly at the viewer whilst seated
along one side of a long table. Only the child, who is also anonymous
beneath a balaclava is looking away from the viewer. The image bears
similarities to Leonardo da Vinci’s iconic mural painting of Jesus at the last
supper. Stormzy is positioned as the central feature much like Jesus due to
being the only one standing, learning toward the viewer and not wearing a
balaclava. The anonymous figures in black (Man Dem) that symbolise folk
devils and fear in mainstream British narratives, are equivalent to the dis
ciples at the Last Supper. The album title Gang Signs & Prayer suggests
belonging; affiliation, allegiance, brotherhood/membership and the importance
of symbolic hand gestures or mudras. In Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism,
mudras are hand or finger patterns believed to evoke powers. Such gestures
separate ‘in groups’ from ‘out groups’ around those who can understand
their meanings and powers. The title embraces sacred and profane binaries,
Gang Signs & Prayers, i.e., hands can do the sacred and the profane, people
can do, or be, both. It is not mutually exclusive.
Through the album cover, the power dynamic with the viewer is reversed.
Rather than the British mainstream (represented by the viewer/listener) over
looking Black boys until they transition into adulthood and are then closely
scrutinised, these anonymous Man Dem on the album cover scrutinise the
viewer who is exposed, thus reversing the socio-political dynamic. Only the
child in the picture, who is less likely to be watched as intently in a social
context, is also not paying attention to the viewer.
When interviewed about the album, Stormzy made it clear that he wanted to
include all parts of himself, i.e. his theistic belief and faith that is ‘…integral to
[his] character.’78 He consciously wanted to include gospel songs and the raw
ness of emotion about his faith. He wanted specific songs (e.g. 21 gun salute) to
sound like ‘heaven’, ‘being a free spirit’, ‘church’ or being in the presence of the
church choir during a service where the ‘choir just takes it away’ (‘Blinded by
Your Grace’, pt. 2).79
Stormzy’s album explores doing ‘road’ (profane) and church (sacred). His
album outlines what was and is important to him and how these have changed
as he has grown up. He addresses being made into a folk devil; a scapegoat for
the continued British public issues; racism, deviant youth culture, criminality
and classism, which he challenges head on. He discusses social realities of ‘road’
life and defying the odds to become a commercially successful musician. He is
explicit in expressing gratitude to God, for His wonder, mercy and grace. He
testifies that God and his faith in God turned his life around. Stormzy claims
God as his Father and he as His son, and will follow to God’s plan – even if he
is ridiculed. Stormzy also fears God, quotes chapters and verses for relevant
Bible scriptures in the album. Stormzy prays. He talks about his hope that
others ‘on road’, where he once was, will turn to God. By using himself as an
example, he is speaking to and encouraging introspection and potentially an
opening to theism for his listeners. The album explores the mundane, the
spectacular and theistic belief, as well as creating space for listeners to partici
pate in sharing their belief through a chorus/choir (‘Blinded by Your Grace’, pt.
2). These topics are dispersed alongside personal issues of father abandonment,
honouring his mother, rivalries with peers and members from the scene (some
that result from cultural differences as grime culture is principally rooted in
Jamaican sound system culture). This album overtly praises God symbolically,
phenomenologically and functionally throughout.
Significantly for both Stormzy and Ghetts in the latter part of the 2010s, who
have professed their Christian faith, they do not limit their repertoire to the
traditional sense music of gospel music as outlined earlier. They present a depth
to their creativity and are able to reach a wide variety of people, sharing their
realities and speaking to real social issues affecting Black communities in Brit
ain, without compromising their personal relationship with God and Christian
theistic belief. Their albums do include preaching messages, and they reach
beyond a churched or Christian religious community. A similarity can be made
with Jesus who did not compromise the guidance or personal relationships with
God but went into the world with his disciples (‘Man Dem’) and connected
with marginalised, stigmatised people, Jews and gentiles to spread parables in a
way that lay people could understand, reflect, question morals, share testi
monies, learn important lessons, hear about God and strengthen their own
faith. The relationship between Stormzy and Ghetts with Jesus and God are
personal ones they share publicly through lyrics or symbolism and giving testi
mony. They illustrate that God is a compass throughout their life choices for
their own personal development to stand for social justice in ways like Jesus.80
In doing so, their work simultaneously engages the churched, dechurched and
beyond.
Their albums include overt religious symbolism, the Bible, God, Jesus, the
crucifix, the last supper and theistic belief as well as sociopolitical content
connected to both private troubles and public issues,81 profanity, friendship,
expressions of sexual desire and masculinity. These works demonstrate a clear
connection to JudeoChristological faith, but a clear commitment to elements
160 Monique Charles
of social justice poignant to them and an expression of a range of emotions
and mental health states stemming from lived experience and social reality as
young Black males in Britain and the wider Black British community. They
too challenge their peers to question and reflect upon lived realities, mental
health and theistic belief. In this way the complexity and holistic approach to
these works solidify these MCs as Messi[nJ]ahs; their openness, vulnerability,
faith and wisdom can lead to introspection and growth for the listener. It can
help others make sense of Britain’s public issues, process their private troubles
and possibly continue, affirm, develop or introduce faith as a modality of navi
gating through this process.
Conclusion
To set the full context, this chapter briefly elucidated the significance of ensla
vement and colonialism of the theistic belief of members of the African dia
spora. It addressed the connection of African American Christianity particularly
Pentecostalism, and American cultural imperialism to modern musics and
understandings of musical purpose on an international scale. The chapter made
the nuance of Black Britishness explicit and highlighted the diverse Black British
ancestries and the influential role of American cultural imperialism in Black
British identity formation and approach to religion and music.
It outlined that Britain has a history of vilifying its youth, constructing them
as folk devils and creating policy and legislation for them. Within the con
stellation of history, religion, music, masculinity and race in the 21st-century
British context, Black British youth over the history of grime have been vilified
by mainstream Britain. Politicians, the media and the authorities blamed Black
music as the reason for social problems in Britain. Black Majority Churches
also deterred their youth members from engaging with Black music during the
noughties. Grime music emerged at the turn of the millennium and grew
alongside a) a significant rise of West African Pentecostal churches in Britain
and b) the shift of demography from a predominantly Jamaican influenced
Black British experience to a Nigerian one.82
The comparison between early 2000s and late 2010s albums of Dizzee, Wiley,
Stormzy and Ghetts, Black British Londoners who are all rooted in grime, with
ancestry in either West Africa or the Caribbean, demonstrate that grime was a
space to articulate and express identity and existence; a Sonic Footprint Time
stamp (SFT). Initially musical space prioritised needing to be heard with
regards to personal troubles; questioning, testing masculinities, Black British
identities, introspection, sharing social realities, encouragement, angst relating
to lived experiences alongside destabilising fast paced gritty, lo-fi sonics, vast
space, heavy synths and bass. Gospel grime songs in the mid noughties highlight
that Gospel was applied in the most prescriptive sense. By the 2010s, gospel
elements (e.g., acknowledging the presence of God, quoting Bible scriptures,
etc.) were incorporated to include more flexible and culturally based
approaches to God’s role in assisting MCs with navigating British public
issues (racism, classism, anti-youth and other poignant Black social issues), as
well as questioning listeners around morality, encouraging empathy, testifying,
sharing theistic belief, praising and pleasing God, emotional and mental health
challenges. Iconography of these albums also reflect this shift over time.
Messi[nJ]ahs, through their work and life, demonstrate that personal trou
bles are connected to one’s emotional and mental health, induced at some level
by public issues (racism, classism, anti-youth British culture). They elucidate
theism’s role in navigating and integrating the public and private. For Black
British males, grime music and connected scene provide a space for exploration
of identity, belief and membership in a society that rejects them. It allows for a
fuller human spectrum of existence beyond the initial expression of personal
troubles – balancing on Wiley’s ‘thin ice’ or confinement to a Dizzee Rascal’s
‘corner’. It provides a space to celebrate, explore or consider one’s faith and
theism. It provides space to speak to peers and back to power. It is a self-
initiation to claim British citizenship. All works discussed here demonstrate that
these MCs are Messi(nJ)ahs, sharing their experiences, faith, and testimonies
(with varying complexity) in relatable ways. Like parables, they spread a gospel to
their listeners, which enables listeners to consider their own relationship with God,
morality, culture and the social world around them.
Notes
1 Monique C. Charles, ‘Generation Grime,’ in The Corbyn Effect, edited by Mark
Perryman (London: Lawrence & Wishart Publishing, 2017), 138–149.
2 Craige Lewis, The Truth about Hip Hop, DVD (Ex Ministries, 2004).
3 Ebony A. Utley, Rap and Religion: Understanding the Gangsta’s God (Santa Barbara,
CA: Praeger Publishers Inc., 2012); Beyoncé, Lemonade (Parkwood Entertainment/
RCA, 2016).
4 C. Wright Mills, The Sociological Imagination, 40th anniversary edition (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2000).
5 Robin Sylvan, Traces of the Spirit: The Religious Dimensions of Popular Music
(New York: NYU Press, 2002).
6 Teresa L. Reed, The Holy Profane: Religion in Black Popular Music (Lexington:
University Press of Kentucky, 2003), 1.
7 Mbiti, 1996.
8 Sylvan, Traces of the Spirit, 55.
10 Reed, The Holy Profane.
11 Sylvan, Traces of the Spirit.
12 Reed, The Holy Profane, 34.
13 Reed, The Holy Profane, 28.
14 Fryer revealed that Black people have been present in Britain for centuries. Peter
Fryer, Staying Power: The History of Black People in Britain (London: Pluto Press,
1984).
15 Barnor Hesse, ‘Diasporicity: Black Britain’s Post-Colonial Formations,’ in Un/settled
Multiculturalisms: Diasporas, Entanglements, Transruptions edited by Barnor Hesse
(London: Zed Books, 2000), 96–120.
16 Paul Gilroy, ‘It’s a Family Affair,’ in That’s the Joint: The Hip-Hop Studies Reader,
edited by Murray Foreman and Mark Anthony Neale (New York: Routledge, 2004),
162 Monique Charles
87–94; Tracey Reynolds, ‘Caribbean Families, Social Capital and Young People’s
Diasporic Identities,’ Ethnic and Racial Studies 29, no. 6 (2006): 1087–1103; Tracey
Reynolds, ‘Friendship Networks, Social Capital and Ethnic Identity: Researching the
Perspectives of Caribbean Young People in Britain,’ Journal of Youth Studies 10, no.
4 (2007): 383–398.
17 Barnor Hesse, ‘Diasporicity.’
18 Robert Beckford, Dread and Pentecostal: A Political Theology for the Black Church
in Britain (London: SPCK Publishing, 2000).
19 Ebony A. Utley, Rap and Religion: Understanding the Gangsta’s God (Santa Bar
bara, CA: Praeger Publishers Inc., 2012).
20 James W. Perkinson, Shamanism, Racism, and Hip Hop Culture: Essays of White
Supremacy and Black Subversion, Black Religion/Womanist Thought/ Social Justice
(New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005); Dick Hebdige, Cut N Mix: Culture Identity
and Caribbean Music (New York: Routledge, 1987).
21 Hebdige, Cut N Mix; Simon Jones, Black Culture White Youth: The Reggae Tradi
tion from JA to UK (London: Palgrave MacMillan, 1988).
22 John Wolffe, ‘Towards the Post-Secular City? London Since the 1960s,’ Journal of
Religious History 41, no. 4 (2017): 532–549.
23 BBC Religion and Ethics, ‘BBC RE: Think 2012 poll sees young people choose family
over faith,’ BBC, 2012. Accessed March 14, 2013. http://www.bbc.co.uk/mediacentre/
latestnews/2012/rethink-poll.html.
24 BBC Religion and Ethics, ‘BBC RE.’
25 Jacinta Ashworth and Ian Farthing, Churchgoing in the UK: A Research Report
from Tearfund on Church Attendance in the UK (Teddington: Tearfund, 2007).
26 BBC. ‘Pentecostalism.’ BBC Religions. Last modified July 2, 2009. https://www.bbc.
co.uk/religion/religions/christianity/subdivisions/pentecostal_1.shtml.
27 John Wolffe, ‘Towards the Post-Secular City? London Since the 1960s.’
28 Babatunde Aderemi Adedibu, ‘Reverse mission or Migrant Sanctuaries? Migration,
Symbolic Mapping and Missionary Challenges of Britain’s Black Majority Churches,’
Pneuma 35 (2013): 405–423.
29 Roger Hewitt, White Talk Black Talk: Inter-racial Friendships and Communication
Amongst Adolescents (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986).
30 ‘2011 Census,’ Office for National Statistics. https://www.ons.gov.uk/census/
2011census; see: Elizabeth Piers, ‘2011 Census: British Africans now Dominant Black
Group,’ The Voice, December 12, 2012. Accessed September 13, 2016. http://www.voi
ce-online.co.uk/article/2011-census-british-africans-now-dominant-black-group.
31 John Wolffe, ‘Towards the Post-Secular City? London Since the 1960s,’ Journal of
Religious History 41, no. 4 (2017): 532–549; BBC, ‘Pentecostalism.’
32 Anita Harris, Future girl: young women in the twenty-first century (London: Rou
tledge, 2004) cited in Chris Shannahan, ‘Excluded Urban Youth and Religious Dis
course in the Trans-local City: Theoretical Framework.’ (Theology and Religion,
University of Birmingham, 2009). Accessed October 1, 2011 (now defunct). http://
www.ptr.bham.ac.uk/research/docs/Youth_Exclusion.pdf.
33 Philippe Ariès, Centuries of Childhood: A Social History of Family Life (New York:
Vintage Books, 1962); Chris Jenks, Childhood, 2nd ed. (London: Routledge, 1996);
Geoffrey Pearson, Hooligan: A History of Respectable Fears (Basingstoke: Palgrave
Macmillan, 1983); Owen Jones, Chavs: The Demonisation of the Working Class
(London: Verso, 2011); Stephen Case, ‘Solving the Youth Crime ‘Problem,’’ TEDx-
LoughboroughU, YouTube, December 13, 2016. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=
QYWPyiZIpV8.
34 Stanley Cohen, Folk Devils and Moral Panics: The Creation of the Mods and
Rockers (London: Paladin, 1973).
35 Sarah Thornton 1997 cited in Shanahan, ‘Excluded Urban Youth and Religious Dis
course in the Trans-local City.’
36 Stuart Hall, Charles Critcher, Tony Jefferson, John Clarke, and Brian Roberts,
Policing the Crisis: Mugging, the State, and Law and Order (Critical Social Studies)
(London: MacMillan, 1978); Oliver Lindner, ‘“Welcome to Blingland”: The Rise of
Black Youth Culture, Its Presence in Public Discourse and Its Impact on British
Youth,’ Anglistik 19, no. 1 (2008): 99–110; Oliver Lindner, ‘Black Urban Gang Cul
ture and the Media in Britain,’ Zeitschrift für Anglistik und Amerikanistik A Quar
terly of Language, Literature and Culture 59, no. 3 (2011): 273–288.
37 Deborah Talbot, ‘Regulation and Racial Differentiation in the Construction of the
Night-time Economies: A London Case Study,’ Urban Studies 41, no. 4 (2004): 887–
901; Deborah Talbot and Martina Böse, ‘Racism, Criminalization and the Develop
ment of Night-time Economies: Two Case Studies in London and Manchester,’
Ethnic and Racial Studies 30, no. 1 (2007): 95–118; Deborah Talbot, ‘The Jur
idification of Nightlife and Alternative Culture: Two UK Case Studies,’ International
Journal of Cultural Policy 17, no. 1 (2011): 81–93; Lambros Fatsis, ‘Policing Black
Culture One Beat at a Time,’ The British Society of Criminology. August 1, 2018.
https://thebscblog.wordpress.com/2018/08/01/policing-black-culture-one-beat-at-a-tim
e/; Lambros Fatsis, ‘Now that Grime is ‘Pop’, When Will the Panic about Drill
Music Stop?’, Discover Society magazine, August 7, 2019. https://discoversociety.org/
2019/08/07/viewpoint-now-that-grime-is-pop-when-will-the-panic-about-drill-music
stop/; accessed 16 March 2021. Lambros Fatsis, ‘Policing the beats: The criminalisa
tion of UK drill and grime music by the London Metropolitan Police,’ The Socio
logical Review 67, no. 6 (2019): 1300–1316. doi: 10.1177/0038026119842480.
38 Robert Beckford, Jesus is Dread: Black Theology and Black Culture in Britain
(London: Darton Longman & Todd Ltd, 1998); Hall, et al., Policing the Crisis.
39 Not in Employment, Education or Training.
40 Anti Social Behaviour Order (Act 2003).
41 Chris Shannahan, ‘Excluded Urban Youth and Religious Discourse in the Trans-
local City.’
42 Risk Assessment form.
43 Criminal Behaviour Order.
44 ‘Dispersal orders provide the police with the extra powers to break up groups of two or
more people, where they believe their behaviour is causing a nuisance, harassment or
distress.’ Croydon Council. ‘Dispersal Orders.’ n.d. https://www.croydon.gov.uk/
community-and-safety/safety/crime-and-antisocial-behaviour/orders-and-injunctions/
dispersal-orders. Accessed 6 April 2021.
46 Nick Barham, Dis/Connected: Why our kids are turning their backs on everything
we thought we knew (London: Ebury Press, 2004) cited in Shanahan, ‘Excluded
Urban Youth and Religious Discourse in the Trans-local City.’
47 Tracey Reynolds, ‘Friendship Networks, Social Capital and Ethnic Identity:
Researching the Perspectives of Caribbean Young People in Britain,’ Journal of
Youth Studies 10, no. 4 (2007): 383–398; Anthony Gunter, ‘Growing up Bad: Black
Youth, ‘Road’ Culture and Badness in an East London Neighbourhood,’ Crime,
Media, Culture 4, no. 3 (2008): 349–366; Anthony Gunter and Paul Watt, ‘Grafting,
Going to College and Working on Road: Youth Transition and Cultures in an East
London Neighbourhood,’ Journal of Youth Studies 12, no. 5 (2009): 515–529;
Anthony Gunter, Growing Up Bad?: Black Youth, ‘road’ Culture and Badness in an
East London Neighbourhood (London: Tufnell Press, 2010).
48 Les Back, New Urban Ethnicities and Urban Culture: Racisms and Multiculture in
Young Lives (Race and Representation) (London: UCL Press, 1996).
49 Ben Gidley, ‘Youth Culture and Ethnicity: Emerging Youth Interculture in South
London’ in Youth Cultures: Scenes, Subcultures and Tribes, edited by Paul Hod
kinson and Wolfgang Deicke (New York: Routledge, 2007), 145–160.
164 Monique Charles
50 Paul Gilroy, The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double-Consciousness (London:
Verso, 1993); Paul Gilroy, ‘It’s a Family Affair,’ in That’s the Joint: The Hip-Hop
Studies Reader, edited by Murray Foreman and Mark Anthony Neale (New York:
Routledge, 2004), 87–94; Robert Beckford, Dread and Pentecostal: A Political
Theology for the Black Church in Britain (London: SPCK Publishing, 2000).
51 Monique C. Charles, ‘Hallowed be thy Grime?: A musicological and sociological
genealogy of Grime music and its relation to Black Atlantic religious discourse.
(#HBTG?)’ (PhD Thesis, The University of Warwick, 2016).
52 Charles, ‘Hallowed be thy Grime?’; Monique C. Charles, ‘MDA as a Research
Method of Generic Musical Analysis for the Social Sciences: Sifting Through Grime
(Music) as an SFT Case Study,’ International Journal of Qualitative Methods 17, no.
1 (2018): 1–11.
53 Chris Campion, ‘Inside Grime,’ The Guardian, May 23, 2004. Accessed December
15, 2010. http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2004/may/23/urban1?INTCMP=SRCH.
54 Paul Sullivan, Remixology: Tracing the Dub Diaspora (London: Reaktion Books,
2014); Julian Henriques, Sonic Bodies: Reggae Sound Systems, Performance Techni
ques and Ways of Knowing (New York: Continuum, 2011); Lloyd Bradley, Sounds
like London: 100 Years of Black Music in the Capital (London: Serpent’s Tail, 2013).
55 Marco Martinello and Jean-Michel LaFleur, ‘Ethnic Minorities’ Cultural and Artistic
Practices as Forms of Political Expression: A Review on the Literature and a Theo
retical Discussion on Music,’ Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 34, no. 8
(2008): 1191–1215.
56 Dizzee Rascal, Boy in da Corner (XL Recordings Ltd, 2003).
57 Wiley, Treading on Thin Ice (XL Recordings, 2004).
58 Stormzy, Gang Signs & Prayer (#Merky Records, Warner, ADA, 2017).
59 Ghetts, Ghetto Gospel: The New Testament (GIIG, 2018).
60 Cobb, cited in John S. McClure, Mashup Religion: Pop Music and Theological
Invention (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2011).
61 Gordon Lynch, ed., Between Sacred and Profane: Researching Religion and Popular
Culture (London: I. B. Tauris and Co Ltd, 2007).
62 Wiley, Treading on Thin Ice (XL Recordings, 2004).
63 Dizzee Rascal, Boy in da Corner (XL Recordings Ltd, 2003).
64 Cohen, Folk Devils and Moral Panics.
65 Victizzle, ‘Jam Yourself,’ track 2 on In My World (Write Way Music Ltd, 2009);
Victizzle, ‘iPray,’ track 3 on In My World (Write Way Music Ltd, 2009).
66 GuvnaB, ‘Kingdom Skank,’ track 8 on Narrow Road (Guvna Music, 2008).
67 Simply Andy, ‘Bibles Bibles,’ Simply Andy presents The Good News EP, CD (Baby
Sync Publishing, 2005).
68 Wiley, ‘It’s Wiley (Showa Eski),’ track 2 on Showa Eski EP (Prodigal Entertainment,
2011).
69 John 14:6 (The New Jerusalem Bible: Study Edition 1994).
70 Dizzee Rascal & P Money, ‘God Knows,’ track 1 on E3 AF (Dirtee Stank; Island,
2020).
71 Charles, ‘Hallowed be thy Grime?’
72 Ghetts, Ghetto Gospel: The New Testament (GIIG, 2018); Stormzy, Gang Signs &
Prayer (#Merky Records, Warner, ADA, 2017).
73 Monique C. Charles, ‘Generation Grime,’ in The Corbyn Effect, edited by Mark Perry-
man (London: Lawrence & Wishart Publishing, 2017), 138–149; Monique C. Charles,
‘Grime launches a revolution in youth politics,’ The Conversation, June 12, 2017. https://
theconversation.com/grime-launches-a-revolution-in-youth-politics-79236.
74 One of Ghetts’ favourite lyricists. Will Lavin, ‘Preaching the Good Word: Ghetts
talks new album, acting and ‘that’ Drake photo,’ Joe, September 25, 2018.
75 Ghetto, Ghetto Gospel. F**k Radio, 2007/2014; Rachel Morris, ‘Interview: Ghetts
adds a new chapter to his grime legacy.’ Nitelife Online, 2018.
76 Morris, ‘Interview.’
77 Stormzy, Gang Signs & Prayer (#Merky Records, Warner, ADA, 2017).
78 Aimee Cliff, ‘Stormzy tells the story behind every song on his debut album: grime
star dissects Gang Signs & Prayer, track by track,’ Fader Magazine, February 23,
2017.
79 Cliff, ‘Stormzy tells the story behind every song on his debut album.’
80 Obery M. Hendricks Jr., The Politics of Jesus: Rediscovering the True Revolu
tionary Nature of the Teachings of Jesus and How They Have Been Corrupted
(Doubleday: Three Leaves Press, 2006).
81 Mills, The Sociological Imagination.
82 Piers, Elizabeth. ‘2011 Census: British Africans now Dominant Black Group.’ The
Voice. December 12, 2012. http://www.voice-online.co.uk/article/2011-census-british
africans-now-dominant-black-group. Accessed September 13, 2016.
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168 Monique Charles
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8 The Jamaican Bible Remix
A Theomusicological Praxis for Bridging the
Gap between Black Liberation Theology and
Contemporary Gospel Music in Britain
Robert Beckford
Introduction
Why is there so little reflection on the social world in Black church music in
Britain? Neither congregational nor commercial gospel music ventures into the
prophetic narratives of the Christian scriptures and translates these stories into
sonic creations for the benefit of the worshipping congregations. Arguably, the
fissure between the theological academy and Black churches is at the centre of
this malaise. Subsequently, there is little dialogue between Black theologians
and the church’s songwriters and musicians. If discussion is to take place, what
is the best medium? Are written texts in journals, books, and conferences the
preeminent means of interaction? While these questions are prioritised in this
chapter, the contents extend beyond analysis and conjecture; the ultimate
concern is praxis. In other words, to answer these questions, I defer to the
production of my conceptual decolonial gospel album, Jamaican Bible Remix
(5 AM Records 2017). I propose that inscribing Black theological thought onto
Black music offers a significant communicative opportunity for meaningful,
transformative dialogue between theologians and the producers of Black
church music.
This chapter begins with a brief ethnography of the worship of three chur-
ches in Britain. I identify a common feature of all the congregational songs—a
deficit in social concern. The reason for his malaise is varied and ultimately
rooted in the continuity of colonial Christian thought in the Black churches.
However, rather than pointing the figure of blame at the Black Church, instead
the chapter discusses the reasons for the failure of British Black theology’s
critique of the coloniality of the Black Church and, subsequently, its music to
be heard by the songwriters and musicians of these churches. What I am sug-
gesting here is that the crisis is a Black academic theological predicament, a
methodological failure on our part, as a consequence of colluding with the
normativity of academic logocentrism. The second half of the chapter is a
reflection on a new communicative practice. I am making a point of departure
a Black liberation theological gospel music production as a medium for dialo-
gue and exchange, and the rest of the chapter contours the material and tech-
nical resources necessary to produce a new decolonial music genre. While the
170 Robert Beckford
album’s genre is contemporary gospel, the conversation has implications for all
theological music(s) of the Black Church in Britain, both congregational and
commercial.
Three Services, Same Songs

I attended worship services at three Pentecostal churches over several weeks
while making the BBC 1 documentary, ‘The Battle for Christianity.’1 The
programme contoured the ministries of churches bucking the trend of declining
congregations in Britain. Those featured are ‘success stories.’ All are char-
acterised by growing congregations in the face of impending decline in
churchgoing in Britain, a predicament that Linda Woodhead describes as ‘no
religion Britain.’2 I was inspired by the enthusiasm for evangelism and the
masses of young people at each venue (always a good register in ‘televisonland’
for Christian relevance). Yet, what occupied my attention most was the choice
of congregational songs. While musicality was not a feature of the television
programme, I was intrigued by an apparent contradiction: the ethnicities and
ministries differed, but the lyrics of the worship songs were similar.3
The first service was at London Hillsong. More than a thousand cosmopo-
litan young people packed into a theatre on Tottenham Court Road. Within
this ‘sacralisation of space,’4 the evening’s worship service, led by a multi-
cultural worship team, set off a host of signifiers regarding the racial politics of
worship. Music ministry is one of the few spaces where Black leadership is
readily foregrounded in predominantly White or Mixed congregations. But all
is not what it seems. Black leadership only in the context of worship in pre-
dominantly White churches can belie a failure of integration; funnelling Black
leaders into the musical section of Sunday morning ministry reinforces racial
stereotypes about an innate Black musicality.5 Despite many evangelical chur-
ches claiming a new politics of Christian inclusion and diversity,6 the racialised
visual politics presented at worship runs counter to their claims.7
The worship ministry at Hillsong was dramatic. The service opened in the
theatre venue on Tottenham Court Road with a smoke machine pouring out a
cloud of white mist onto the stage as a team of singers/dancers ran out like
seasoned professionals to take up their stage positions synchronously with the
theatre lights hitting the middle. Concerning genre, soft rock and mainstream
Euro-popular music chic dominated the praise and worship – which was also
loud, contemporary, intense and underpinned by a Christian collective effer-
vescence. Scholarship on music choice at Hillsong suggests that the positive
response to the congregational songs is the product of refinement, redevelop-
ment and ‘quality control.’8 Despite the smoke, noise and the aura of a dis-
tinctive ‘Christian teen-spirit,’ it was the theological content of the songs that
caught my attention. The lyrics projected generalisations about the love and
goodness of God, devotion to God and God’s omnipresence.9 Intriguingly,
despite the ethnic diversity of the congregation, the cosmopolitan setting and
an atmosphere of contemporary urban multicultural cool, there were no lyrics
The Jamaican Bible Remix 171
in the songs gesturing towards the social context, historical-social sensibilities,
or concerns outside the church.
The second service was at ‘The Rock’ New Testament Church of God in
Birmingham. Several hundred Black Pentecostals of mainly African Caribbean
heritage attended morning worship in the large renovated early 20th-Century
red-brick Anglican church building. A crew of mature women with superb
singing voices and improvisational skills led the congregation into worship.
Worship leadership in this denomination is also a site of struggle. With
restrictions on women’s leadership, worship ministry is one of the few places
where women can develop their craft without a wholesale capitulation to
denominational patriarchal restriction. Subsequently, Black women have been
at the forefront of the creation of the distinctive, contemporary African Car-
ibbean British music ministry style (a fusion of Black Atlantic orality and
musical genres) born in Black Pentecostal churches in the 1960s. Comparative
to Hillsong, the vocal range, harmonies and improvisations were more pro-
nounced here. Also, the singing was underscored by an African musical reten-
tion which facilitates creative sonic and lyrical processes of ‘continuity and
change.’10 Subliminal to the worship was a Black church worship quality con-
trol: vocal talent was as important a pre-requisite for leading music ministry as
was being sensitive to the ‘moving of the Holy Spirit.’
The worship service at The Rock began with a series of up-tempo choruses,
after which the style changed: a collection of slower, melodic praise songs
ushered in a powerful sense of the Spirit of God, made evident in the con-
gregation’s response – a sense of awe in the presence of the numinous. The
collective worship was only interrupted by a solo gospel song performance
before the sermon. At the end of the service, it was evident that here, also,
despite the distinctive diasporic history of the congregants,11 the theology of
song was restricted to the theopoetics of the love and goodness of God, and
devotion to God. There were no songs hinting at what African diaspora scho-
lars Smith, Ackah and Reddie term the contested multiculturalism of Black
British experience.12 Given the historical, cultural and political role of Black
music in Britain as a cypher for social realities, the omission of social sig-
nificance is noteworthy.13
The third service was at the Nigerian diaspora denominational church, the
Redeemed Church of God in Brent Cross, London. An auditorium constructed
out of the shell of a former modern telesales complex was filled with African
British Christian families. West African migration to Britain is concurrent with
its African Caribbean counterpart but radically increased in the 1980s. Both
peoples, however, were colonised by the British, and subsequently, their
nations have provided a reserve pool of labour for the postcolonial British
economy. The decline in African Caribbean migration, and the rise of Mixed
heritage ethnicities, have contributed to a numerical decline of African Car-
ibbean British citizens, and as a result, with its younger demographic, West
African Christianity is the contemporary powerhouse of Black British Chris-
tianity. According to Andrew Rogers, ‘Southwark in London has the greatest
172 Robert Beckford
concentration of African Christianity in the world, outside of Africa.’14 Most
of the largest Churches in Britain are West African, including London’s mega-
churches.15 At Brent Cross, the believers were led into worship by a youthful,
dress-coordinated, energetic ministry team on the front stage. An immediate
sense of welcome and embrace emanated from the persistent outbreak of
smiles, and expressions of joy amongst the singers in the choir, stationed at
one side of the stage.
At The Redeemed Church of God, the soundscape was similar to the Afri-
can Caribbean context – a mix of well-known popular British praise and
worship songs and a few from the famous ‘back home’ choruses from Nigeria.
The worship choreography – the singing, preaching and announcements were
perfectly timed to synchronise with the live broadcast and the church’s televi-
sion ministry. All the music accompanying the songs was performed on the
syncopated beat, which kept in time the worshipper’s expressive physicality –
the embodiment of worship in African diaspora worship cultures. But, like
their Caribbean counterparts, the explicit ontological blackness of the worship
was a ‘mixed blessing.’ On the one hand, the embodiment of worship was an
affirmation and celebration of the corporeal Black dancing body. In radical
contrast to the racial hostility of post-Brexit Britain, here, the (hetero-
normative) Black body is always affirmed.16 On the other hand, the prioritising
of the spiritual well-being of Black flesh indirectly militates against the cultu-
rally diverse forms of worship and liturgy necessary for attracting a culturally
diverse congregation.17 However, the existence of this unique diasporic culture
did not dissipate the common theological content of the songs. There was a
strong identification with the first two experiences: the songs were char-
acterised by the theological themes of confidence in God’s providence, the
abiding power of the Spirit in the life of the believer, and an omission of songs
with subjects about the meaning of God in the social world.
Despite the differing demographics, cultures, and social locations, all three
services shared a common theology of song. Why was this the case? There are
at least three possible explanations for the repetition.
The first explanation is liturgical. The songs were performed in a worship
context where the function of the music is to usher believers into a sacramental
experience.18 The ecclesiastical requirement, therein, is that the songs create a
spiritual climate for sensitivity to the presence of the Holy Spirit and prepara-
tion for the preaching of the Word of God.19 While this explanation accounts
for what Woods and Walrath term the leitourgia20 or sacramental role of
worship, it does not explain the implicit cultural variations in God-talk in the
sermons proceeding the worship. In each case, equally, ‘under the influence of
the Holy Spirit,’ distinctive cultural themes appropriate to the Australian dia-
sporic cosmopolitan charismatic theology (Hillsong) and the conservative
theologies of the African Caribbean and West African diaspora churches (the
Rock and Redeemed churches), were brought to bear in the interpretation of
scripture during the preaching. Relevant examples and illustrations, sometimes
from outside of the context of the church, were used to embellish the sermon’s
homiletic structure. Equally, then, we may ask, ‘Why there was no social or
cultural hermeneutic brought to bear (aside from sonic variations) on the
theology of the songs?’
The second explanation is commercial. Similarities in the content of the
lyricism reflect both the industry limitations and predictability of con-
temporary church music. Unlike the popular music business, a paucity of new
musical material emerges from the British Christian music industry, and most
churches draw from a small pool of popular writers and composers, most of
whom in Britain are racialised as White.21 Furthermore, a ‘McDonaldization’
of worship music, that is, a process of rationalisation and regulation to ensure
quality and predictability, offers worshipers a cluster of songs that become
popular because they guarantee a level of aesthetic pleasure and spiritual
effectiveness.22 Taking this second explanation seriously leads to an important
contextual question for the Black churches at least, namely, ‘Why it is that
despite having a rich history of musical creativity, performance and produc-
tion, little innovative work has been done to contextualise song writing in
Britain?’
A third explanation is historical-theological and concerns the predominantly
African Caribbean and West African congregations. The explanation here is
that the theology of Black church music is socially mute because it is still tied
to the influence of colonial Christianity. Colonial Christianity is a complex
history of thought and action and, put simply, describes the corrupt Christian
ideas communicated to enslaved and colonised Africans in the crucible of
British violent settler colonialism and has continuities in Black Christian
experience or the Black Christian ‘coloniality of being.’23 Colonial Chris-
tianity’s continuity or coloniality is registered in two dynamics in African
Caribbean Christianity. These are a biopolitical concern and social quietism.
The former concerns a focus on personal piety, holiness and evasion of
worldly concerns (often including politics). The latter is the product of the
first, a disavowal of church-based social justice work. Social justice concerns a
global practice dedicated to dismantling unjust structures and systems and is
therefore distinctive from the more common custom of Black church social
welfare, which in turn describes a plethora of meaningful but reductionist
charitable works and concerns.24
Accepting a priori that colonial Christian thought continues to shape Afri-
can diaspora Christian ideas about God, then, discursively, the subject of the
songs about God in these churches de facto reproduces the contours of colo-
nial Christianity rather than overturning them. In other words, these churches
reproduce a socially quiet music. A ‘changing same’ of colonial Christian
thought in Black church music.
This third explanation is the one that informs this chapter. Not that the
other two reasons are without merit, but because of the historical importance
of the third explanation – its reverse reach into the foundations of African and
African Caribbean Christian traditions. However, here, rather than inter-
rogating the coloniality of Black church musicians and songwriters, this
174 Robert Beckford
chapter’s primary concern is a perceived shortcoming of Black theologians. In
other words, I want to address the ‘plank’ in obscuring the vision of Black
theologians before commenting on the ‘speck’ in gospel music artistry. My
question to my compatriots and interested diaspora colleagues is, ‘Why haven’t
Black church theologians engaged in a dialogue with musicians and song-
writers to decolonise Black church music?’ To answer this question, and with a
focus on the British context, this chapter explores some of the barriers or
‘gaps’ preventing a meaningful dialogue. But the chapter does not end there. In
the spirit of redemptive vengeance,25 it contours a solution: a bridge and
praxis. The second part of the chapter describes the primary resources that
made possible the production of the Jamaican Bible Remix album (2017). The
album is a ‘bridge’ and a praxis for the decoloniality or dismantling of the
colonial Christian continuities in our songs about God.
The Gap: Method Matters

Black theology in Britain has not engaged Black church musicians and song-
writers. A conversation with one of Britain’s brightest millennial gospel artists
makes legible the estrangement:
ROBERT: ‘Have you ever read any black theology?’

MILLENNIAL WORSHIP LEADER: ‘No. Does it really matter?’
ROBERT: ‘I think it matters for gospel music because all music is theological,
right?’
26
MILLENNIAL WORSHIP LEADER: ‘I’ve not thought about it that way before.’
The worship leader’s unknowing in that moment sheds light on the dis-
cipline’s failure to gain traction in the minds of Black church music’s
‘thought leaders.’ The lack of influence is made more depressing when we
consider that this worship leader is a representative of the immensely
talented, third-generation, African-Caribbean contemporary gospel artists.
Black theologians cannot ‘write off’ or discount this lack of engagement.
Black church music is too important. Whether congregational or commercial
gospel music, Black church music matters for Black and womanist theology
because it is a source of theological thought with extensive reach into the
interiority of Black spirituality27 Musicians and songwriters are ‘doing’ theol-
ogy in music. They are constructing theological identities and boundaries. As
Melvin L. Butler notes in his study of Pentecostal music in Jamaica:
…Pentecostals use music to declare what they believe and where they
stand in relation to religious and cultural outsiders.28
In addition to its theological content, church music has pedagogic power.29 It

can communicate a range of theological possibilities, from social criticism30 to
spiritual escapism.31 For instance, studies of the impact of gospel music in
diverse global contexts reveal a range of didactic capabilities, including a sub-
versive conduit against authoritarianism in Mugabe’s Zimbabwe32 and, con-
versely, an echo chamber for neo-liberal social and economic worldviews in
the West.33 There is a tricontinental dimension to this Black musical predica-
ment; it is not a Western privilege.34 Theological ideas inscribed in church
music circulate transnationally within a Black religious culture, crisscrossing the
Americas, West Africa and Europe, and therefore the state of Black church music
is a concern for theologians in the global majority south and the overdeveloped
north.35
Our collective failure has consequences. Without dialogue, Black church
music’s soundscapes evade theological reflection on some of the most pressing
issues of the day, such as racism, sexism, environmentalism and militarism. In
Britain, for instance, gospel music’s response to the Grenfell Tower tragedy of
14 June 2017 exemplifies the disconnect between church music and pressing
social issues. The Grenfell Tower tragedy rocked Britain. The nation was in
collective shock over the loss of life and its apocalyptic unveiling of the social
and racial inequality in housing in ‘austerity Britain.’36 The disaster made
visible the overrepresentation of Black and Brown people, migrant workers
and working poor in London’s cramped, dated and potentially unsafe accom-
modation. A comparative analysis of two musical responses to the tragedy
makes evident Black church music’s (in this case, contemporary gospel) social
consciousness deficit.
On the one hand, the ‘grime rap’ artist Stormzy, in the best tradition of the
emerging political hip hop/grime in the UK,37 directly confronts the failure of
government policies in the fire’s aftermath during his iconic ‘Brits Awards’
performance of 2018.38 In his show, Stormzy included a criticism of the then
prime minister and leader of the Conservative Party, Theresa May:
Yo, Theresa May where’s the money for Grenfell? What, you thought we
just forgot about Grenfell? You criminals, and you got the cheek to call us
savages? You should do some jail time; you should pay some damages.39
On the other hand, aside from church choirs and artists supporting fundraising
events in the wake of the tragedy, the most significant post-Grenfell con-
temporary gospel music release was the Kingdom Choir’s debut album, Stand
By Me. 40 This high-powered collection of gospel and secular anthems of love
and inspiration, while a commercial masterstroke, has no direct, explicit, lyri-
cal engagement with the tragic events of the year. Yet, the genre (con-
temporary gospel music) did not prevent the choir from considering social
protest within the wider project. Let me explain. The music video for one of
the signature tracks on the Kingdom Choir’s album, ‘Blinded by Your Grace,
Pt. 2’ (originally performed by Stormzy), signifies on protest. But the visual
text provides no specific socio-political index or cultural reference points. As
the video begins, we witness a group of protesters carrying placards with some
of the lyrics from the song sprayed across them.41 But the imagery does not
176 Robert Beckford
deliver any visual clues regarding what is being protested. Without specificity,
the signs and placards are, at best, a weak sentiment and, at worst, an empty
gesture. In other words, in the worst tradition of Black religion in the dia-
spora, neither the album nor their music video point towards the concrete
causes of Black distress made legible in the intersectional analyses of the tra-
gedy.42 As Obery Hendricks warns, when commercialisation and commodifi-
cation are foregrounded in the production of gospel music, the genre disavows
concern for the ‘psycho-emotional and socio-political edification of the com-
munities that spawned them….’43
Why has Black and womanist theology in Britain failed to impress change
on the genre? What are the barriers separating the discipline’s prophetic man-
date from one of its core constituencies? There are at least three basic reasons
for the failure. These are chronology, mission and academia. But a more
sophisticated issue to contend with is a methodological let-down.
First, Black and womanist theology fail to engage with musicians and song-
writers because these theologies are relatively new disciplines. Like all aca-
demic discourse, they require generations of development to become ‘ordinary’
in the Black Church. The mission of Black theology is also prohibitive. As
Gayraud Wilmore noted some time ago, Black theologies are fundamentally
prophetic disciplines, and ‘speaking truth to power’ from the context of the
theological academy is neither popular nor welcome.44 It is a ‘narrow path’,
and therefore Black theologies will, even if they are accepted by the church,
remain a minority pursuit where the primary goal is to disrupt and disentangle
unjust power relations through cogent and critical analyses rather than prior-
itising the organisation of a mass social movement.45 Finally, in the UK at
least, the number of active Black theologians is a crucial variable. Despite the
multitudes of Black Christians swelling the ranks of churchgoers in Britain’s
cities, the British theological academy stubbornly remains a White scholar’s
guild. At the time of writing, only two-and-a-half full-time Black theologians
are in service in related departments in the British university sector. By way of
comparison with other academic disciplines, and again, in 2023, there were
three times as many British-born Black scholars working in one department of
a British university (sociology and criminology at Birmingham City University)
than the collective number of Black theologians employed by British uni-
versities. There are more Black geographers teaching in Britain’s universities
than Black theologians, yet geography cannot claim to have hundreds of
thousands of Black enthusiasts regularly engaged in group or private study of
their main texts. The seminary system is healthier. For instance, at the time of
writing, the Queen’s Foundation in Birmingham employed three-and-a-half
full-time equivalent Black scholars. Hence, with such small numbers of active
theological educators, we may sympathetically decline to burden this min-
uscule demographic with the concern of transforming the theology of song.
But equally, there is a counter-argument which is that given the centrality of
music to Black Christian experience, then focusing on music must be a prior-
ity. These first three explanations are relevant, but they do not fully account
for what is at the heart of the quandary. Instead, I propose the primary reason is a
methodological divide and, subsequently, requires a specific practical response.
The primary barrier is method. The predicament is this. The dominant dis
course on Sunday mornings is music. No matter how great the preacher may
be, Black church folks still identify music ministry as a key component of the
church’s teaching. As C. Eric Lincoln and Lawrence Mamiya state, ‘In the Black
Church, good preaching and good singing are almost invariably the minimum
conditions for a successful ministry.’46 In contrast, British Black and womanist
theologies, with few exceptions, are logocentric disciplines, and their ideas are
disseminated in books, journals, and conference papers. There is between the
pulpit and lecture theatre an epistemic mismatch. With so few Black theolo
gians teaching in the academy, and conversely so many Black people in the
pews of independent and mainstream churches, the devotion to the Western
logocentric rationalist hegemon risks a Black theological, self-inflicted
epistemicide.47
The Bridge: A Black Theological Practical Musicality

‘What method, then, is required to bridge the gap?’ While there is no exact
precedent in the UK to follow, I propose that we move beyond British Black
theology’s appetite for logocentricity48 and broaden or decolonise knowledge
production by developing diverse ‘academic’ texts for theological reflection.
This is not a completely new idea in the UK. In Documentary as Exorcism:
Resisting the Bewitchment of Colonial Christianity (2014), as a filmmaker, I
make a case for and demonstrate how documentary film functions as theopraxis
for a decolonial Black theology.49 Similarly, Anthony Reddie’s reflection on
drama and theology likewise incorporates new epistemes into the often-stilted
works of logocentric theology.50 In a comparable vein, I am suggesting that to
reach and engage with musicians and songwriters, theology must be multi-
modal. Concerning bridging the gap, my preferred medium for engagement is
music. After all, if music is the currency of the Black Church, then it makes
sense to ‘trade’ ideas in this modality. Another way to think about the theolo
gical currency of music is through the discipline of theomusicology. The term
‘theomusicology’ is coined by the African-American scholar Jon Michael Spen
cer to denote a contextual approach to the study of Black church music.
Essentially it is an interdisciplinary method for the study of music which fore
grounds a refusal to separate the sacred and profane.51 Theomusicology, when
translated into a music practice, or what I term ‘theomusicality,’ describes a con
textual, holistic music making. The product of my theomusicality is the produc
tion of the contemporary gospel album, the Jamaican Bible Remix (2017).52
The Resources
It is important to speak about the mechanics of the project for two reasons. First,
to detail the process of developing music making from the location of the
178 Robert Beckford
humanities academy in Britain. Digital humanities including collaborating with
musicians and artists is an important development for increasing the reach of
humanities disciplines beyond the ivory and ebony towers.53 Second, to demon
strate the entanglements of academic theology with musicality as radical action.
While the inspiration for the album was to ‘bridge the gap,’ the album was made
possible by the uniting of two disparate Christian ministries in the Midlands area
of Britain: biblical translation and contemporary gospel music production.
The Bible Society partly financially resourced the album. Their support was
born of a common interest. The Bible Society needed to promote Di Jamiekan
Nyuu Testiment (JNT) (2012) translation of the New Testament, and I wanted
to produce contemporary gospel music to engage with the Black Church. The
issue was that despite the JNT’s accuracy, creativity, and cultural significance,
like all new translations, audiences struggled to read the language which they
may have only ever spoken. Without an understanding of the grammar and
phonetic structure of the written word, it was difficult to parse even well-
known texts like John 1:14:
14
Nou, di wan we a di Wood ton man, im kom kom liv mongks wi,
an wi si ou im big an powaful.
Im a Faada Gad wan an onggl dege-dege Bwai Pikni.
Faada Gad sen im kom an a di Faada mek im so big an powaful.
Di Bwai Pikni shuo wi nof nof lov iivn duo wi no dizorv it, an a
bier chuu sitn im shuo wi bout Gad.
(John 1:14, Jamacan New Testament)
The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.
We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son,
who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
(John 1:14, New International Version)
Personally speaking, my encounter with the JNT version was transformative.

An unveiling of the decolonial linguistic possibilities in the Christian imagina
tion. I thought to myself, ‘If we can decolonise the biblical language, that is,
engage in vernacular hermeneutics to displace the hegemony of imperial Eng
lish, then equally, surely, this text can be the basis for a decolonisation of the
lyricism of Black church music.’ Inspired, I approached the organisation with a
proposal to produce a decolonial contemporary gospel music album.
My proposal to the Bible Society detailed my musical intentions: to sample
from the audio version of the JNT translation and layer the samples with a
message track inspired by Black and womanist theology and British Black music
genres. The written proposal to the Bible Society made mention of three levels
of mixology.
The core idea is to remix the JNT audio. Remixing is a complex process of
layering sound and developing an accessible, compelling and entertaining narrative.
Hence, in this project there will be at least three layers or ‘texts’ on each track:
� First and foremost is the remixing of the JNT. We will sample key passages
that will function as the central and defining narrative of each track. For
example, John 1:14, the Incarnation of Jesus, will be sampled to explore
contemporary meanings.
� The second layer is vocal accompaniment, and this has two parts. First,
there are the ‘music’ vocals – voices of singers/rappers to embellish the Bible
story and make it compelling. Second, there is the narrative/comment of Dr
Beckford.
� Finally, the Bible passage will be mixed with contemporary music (grime,
dub, reggae-dancehall etc.)
Combined these elements will seek to re-tell a biblical story or event.
It was a bold decision for the Bible Society to agree to the proposal. Their
support moved them out of their ‘comfort zone’ of merely promoting the
reading of the Bible and towards the insecurity of critical contextual inter
pretation. However, after much soul-searching, our colleagues at the Bible
Society retreated to a more background role to not be seen to be veering too far
from their historic mandate.
Regarding the musicianship, I made use of practical and professional resour
ces. Concerning the practicalities, digital recording software was the most con
venient music-making method for composition. Musicing this way works by
tracking or layering tracks in a digital workstation such as ‘Protools’ or the
‘Cubase’ programmes. Tracking is much more than a technical, mechanical
process; it is also deeply interpretive and improvised. As John McClure notes in
Mashup Religion, tracking produces meaning.54 Each track in a mix represents
a narrative or concept to contrast, integrate or juxtapose with others in the
pursuit of musical meaning.
Tracking is also an improvised process, a trial-and-error experimentation to

find the right sound, mood or feel by combining instruments and samples and
ordering them to produce a compelling narrative. As such, rather than working
within a set tradition or way of knowing, this approach is transgressive.55
As Michael Fishbane shows, improvisation is not merely a rehash of the

tradition or what was presented before. It is an interruption of the piece to
produce a difference within the work. ‘Improvisation is awareness of both the
contingency of experience and the fissures that make existence contingent.’56
The three tracks identified in the pitch governed the mixology. These are 1)
audio samples from the JNT or scripture track, 2) the message track or verbal
narratives and 3) the music or instrumental track or genre. The scripture track
describes the samples from the JNT that are cut and mixed into every song.
The position of scripture in the mix is strategic. Samples from the JNT are
looped and positioned in the mix as stand-alone reference points or as choruses
or verses in the mix. For example, on the pro reparations for slavery track ‘Pay
Back,’ the sample comes from Paul’s Letter to Philemon (v. 18). We sample it
and loop it as a chorus:
180 Robert Beckford
‘Ef im did du notn rang tu yu ar im uo yu, …. wi pie yu bak, pie yu bak.’
(x2)
If he has done you any wrong or owes you anything, charge it to
me.
(Philemon 18, New International Version)
In contrast, in the song, ‘The Beatitudes,’ the whole of Matthew 5:3–12 is

sampled and cut into sections or verses and a chorus:
Aal a unu we nuo se unu niid Gad iina evri wie, Gad bles unu, kaa di gud sitn
dem we Gad gi wen im ruul piipl laif iina evri wie, a unu a-go get dem.
Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
(Matthew 5:3, New International Version)
Chorus
Gad bles unu. (X6)
Aal a uu a baal nou, Gad bles dem,kaaz di taim a-go kom wen Gad a-go
osh dem an mek dem api agen. Aal a uu ombl demself, Gad bles dem,kaa
yu si di ort, a dem piipl de a-go kom get it.
Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.
(Matthew 5:4–5, New International Version)
The message track is the theological narrative of the song. The narrative consists of
various vocal practices such as spoken word, singing or rapping. The theological
orientation of the message track is a decolonial narrative theology with emphasis on a
decolonial soteriology, interpretation, and history.57 Layering and combining these
modes of verbal expression produces the message track’s meaning.
Finally, the music track describes the music appropriated to blanket the
scripture and message tracks. The music(s) of choice are genres from the Black
British music canon. However, as creative and dynamic as these traditions are,
they are never outside of politics. In Britain, Black music sits on a crucial nodal
position of diasporic and global cultures. The soundscapes of Caribbean and
African migration intermingle with European and African American musical
cultures. This ‘cut n mix’ of cultures and peoples has led to the creation of unique
genres underwritten by Britain’s new ethnicities in urban cultures.58 Yet, cultural
hybridity and creativity is not the only variable to consider.59 Black music is more
than its aesthetic. As Ifeona Fulani notes, within the particularity of ‘enslavement
and colonialism musicianship incorporated guardianship of historical and cul
tural memory and social commentary.’60 Therefore, Black music’s pedagogic role
is part griot and part organic intellectual.61
Concerning professional resources, the musical talent for producing the
album came from Tony Bean and 5 AM Records. Locating a skilled musician
and producer within the Black church context was not difficult. Artistry is a
function of the Black Church in Britain, and the church is fecund with musi
cians.62 However, to facilitate a range of musical and production needs,
including awareness of the history, culture, and politics of the Black Church, it
was essential to work with a ‘conscious’ Pentecostal musician-producer. For
tunately, the main gospel label in Birmingham, 5 AM Records, had one such
individual, the musician-producer Tony Bean.
Tony has contributed to the contemporary music scene for decades and has
won numerous national and international awards. He was raised in the Pentecostal
denomination, The New Testament Church of God, and is a competent musician
(guitar, drums, keyboards) and songwriter. As Tony states in his biography:
I was blessed to have a great ‘mom’ who was a very gifted musician. She
read music and played guitar and piano. I was more interested in football
until I realised a growing passion watching the musicians at church. It was
then that I took an interest in what my mom wanted to teach me. She was
my first music teacher. From age 11, I was playing guitar in the church
band every Sunday, a great opportunity to learn and develop.
The Praxis
The product of the collaboration was the album, Jamaican Bible Remix.
‘Remix’ refers to the remixing of the audio from the JNT version, though
remixing music has a long history in Jamaican music culture.63 A useful sum
mary of the project appears on the album’s website:
The Jamaican Bible Remix is a conceptual gospel album and a ground-

breaking theo-musical remix of the translation of the New Testament into
Jamaican Patois. The project was a collaboration with producer Tony Bean
from 5 AM Records and the Bible Society in the UK and the West Indies.
‘Di Jamaikan Nyuu Testament’ was published in 2012. The Jamaican Bible
Remix studio album samples audio from the Jamaican translation and mixes it
with contemporary urban music (grime, two-step, R & B, drum and bass),
accompanied by a spoken biblical commentary by, among others, academic
professor Lez Henry, vocal artist Justice Inniss, rapper and MC Juice Aleem
and the first female Black bishop in the Church of England, Bishop Rosie
Hudson-Wilkins.
Black Theology, as an academic discipline, has neglected contemporary

gospel music while contemporary gospel music is immune to the theolo
gical imperatives of black theology. Beckford suggests a new sonic com
municative strategy mediated by Rastafari reggae decoloniality that
182 Robert Beckford
Figure 8.1 Album cover, Jamaican Bible Remix

Source: https://www.canterbury.ac.uk/arts-and-humanities/school-of-humanities/reli
gion-philosophy-and-ethics/research/jamaican-bible-remix.aspx.
delinks gospel music from colonial Christianity. The album triangulates

postcolonial Biblical hermeneutics, contextual theology (drawing from
black and womanist liberation theologies) and theo-musicology that
inscribes theological ideas into music practice. It brings together multiple
voices and sounds in a cultural affirmation of a people in the act of
redemption and liberation.
The Jamaican language has a theological meaning. Read as a secular
liberation atonement theory, the use of the language is liberation from the
imperial linguistics of colonialism. It addresses how captured Africans
found ways of keeping their language and their culture alive in the way
they spoke. The project demonstrates the complexity of translating and
interpreting the Bible in a language often derided as Patois and offers a re
evaluation of Jamaican Patois as a legitimate, non-colonial language for
Christian worship.64
To conclude, I present an example of how the album speaks to the commu

nicative task. After all, bridging the gap is concerned with initiating a con
versation and dismantling the scaffolding of colonial Christianity in Black
church music. The ‘Introduction’ to the album encompasses the scope of this
project. On the track, ‘The Jamaican Language,’ we state at the outset the
mission: to create a new gospel music sensitive to the socio-political world. In
other words, we contest the evasion of social concerns in Black church
theomusicality by promoting engagement with the socio-political world on the
songs of the album.
‘The Jamaican Language’

On the track ‘The Jamaican Language,’ the central message is the purpose of
the album. That is to engage in a socio-political interpretation of the New
Testament in order to produce a new type of contemporary gospel music. After
an exploration of the struggle over the meaning of the Jamaican language, the
track describes the entanglement of socio-political interpretation, the JNT and
the diasporic context. The music track is a composed piece paying homage to
the artist Ty’s popular hip-hop/soul/Afrobeat’s acoustics (‘Groovement’).65
ROBERT: Welcome to the Jamaican Bible Remix.

It’s a remix of the Jamaican New Testament, published in 2012.
We mix audio from the Jamaican New Testament with black urban
music from Britain, and we provide a social and political-theological com
mentary on the audio.
So, when you mix it all together you end up with a powerful sonic fic
tion. You hear the Jamaican Bible come alive in the black urban context
and you hear the Bible relate to real-life, social, political, historical and
cultural concerns.
On another level, we are trying to demonstrate that translation is much
more than grammar and syntax; it’s also about communicating a peoples’
worldview, their history, their hopes, and their aspirations.
I guess you could say that we see language as being redemptive.
To say the Jamaican language is redemptive is to affirm the way in
which Africans who were captured found ways of keeping their language
and their culture alive in the way that they spoke.
But not everybody holds this view of the Jamaican language. For some,
the Jamaican language is problematic.
DAVID STARKEY: This language, which is wholly false, which is a Jamaican
patois.
ROBERT: But for others it’s a legitimate language: a carefully retained expres
sion of the history of the Africans on the island.
REV. COURTNEY STEWART: It is patois, our language, and the critical part of this
translation is that our language is what makes us who we are.
ROBERT: Now we’re mixing this up from the location of the diaspora, the
Jamaican diaspora in Britain.
And as a diaspora we have the gift of second sight: we live in two
worlds.
So, we draw on ideas from the Caribbean, and we mix them with
information, concerns and experiences that we have here in Britain.
184 Robert Beckford
This is a collaboration between 5AM Records (Tony Bean), The Bible
Society and me, Robert Beckford. On this album, we cover a variety of
themes, all of them bound together by social justice.
Conclusion
Black liberation theologies cannot evade meaningful dialogue with Black church
music. Integral to the decolonisation of Black churches in Britain are its songs.
Turning to the medium of music provides a natural vehicle for communicating
decolonial theological thought and thereby offers another level of engagement
for countering the continuities of coloniality in Black Christianity. The Jamai
can Bible Remix album exemplifies this new theomusicality. However, this
approach does not presuppose that the songwriters and musicians of the church
are not readers. Instead, the reality is that mainstream academic platforms in
the contemporary theological academy are inadequate to reach and impact the
musicians, artists and song leaders in the Black church.
Notes
1 BBC1, ‘The Battles for Christianity,’ 8 April 2016.
2 Linda Woodhead, ‘The Rise of “no religion” in Britain. The emergence of a new
cultural majority,’ Journal of the British Academy 4 (2016): 245–61.
3 Theology of song explores the ideas about God and their attendant meanings in the
production, transmission, and consumption of Christian songs. There is a long-
standing history in the Black Atlantic of the theology of song as intimately related to
the social world of Black people. See James H. Cone, The Spirituals and the Blues:
An Interpretation (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2000); Jeremiah A. Wright Jr.,
‘Music as Cultural Expression in Black Church Theology and Worship,’ Black
Sacred Music 3, no. 1 (1 March 1989): 1–5; Robert Beckford, Jesus Dub: Faith,
Culture and Social Change (London: Routledge, 2004).
4 Conrad Ostwalt, Secular Steeples: Popular Culture and the Religious Imagination
(London: Bloomsbury, 2012), 77.
5 See for further discussion, Gerardo Marti, Worship Across the Racial Divide: Reli
gious Music and the Multiracial Congregation (New York, New York: Oxford
6 See for example, https://hillsong.com/uk/black-lives-matter/. Accessed 22 January 2018.
7 Compare in the wake of George Floyd’s murder the commitment to anti-racism at http
s://hillsong.com/uk/black-lives-matter/ with the visual politics at play in the leadership
team https://hillsong.com/uk/centrallondon/meet-the-team/. Acc. 22 Jan. 2018.
8 Tanya Riches, ‘The Evolving Theological Emphasis of Hillsong Worship’ (1996–
2007), Australasian Pentecostal Studies 13 (January 2010), 91.
9 Mark Evans, ‘Hillsong Abroad: Tracing the Songlines of Contemporary Pentecostal
Music,’ in The Spirit of Praise: Music and Worship in Global Pentecostal-Charis
matic Christianity, eds. Monique Marie Ingalls and Amos Yong (Pennsylvania: The
Pennsylvania State University Press, 2015).
10 J. H. Kwabena Nketia, ‘African Roots of Music in the Americas: An African View,’
Jamaica Journal (March 1979): 17.
11 Joe Aldred, Respect: Understanding Caribbean British Christianity (Peterborough
UK: Epworth, 2005).
12 See the introduction of R. Drew Smith, William Ackah, and Anthony G. Reddie eds.,
Churches, Blackness, and Contested Multiculturalism: Europe, Africa, and North
America (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014).
13 King-Dorset Rodreguez, Black Dance in London, 1730–1850: Innovation, Tradition
and Resistance (Jefferson, N.C: McFarland & Co, 2008); Paul Gilroy, There Ain’t
No Black in the Union Jack (London: Routledge, 1987); Mark Anthony Neal, What
the music said: Black popular music and black public culture (New York: Routledge
Press, 1999).
14 Andrew Rogers, ‘How are black majority churches growing in the UK? A London
Borough case study,’ Religion Global Society (blog), LSE Blogs, 28 December 2016.
https://blogs.lse.ac.uk/religionglobalsociety/2016/12/how-are-black-majority-churches
growing-in-the-uk-a-london-borough-case-study/. Accessed 22 January 2018.
15 See Ruth Glendhill, ‘The Remarkable Impact of London’s Flourishing Megachurches’
Christianity Today, 2 November 2016. https://www.christiantoday.com/article/
the-remarkable-impact-of-londons-flourishing-megachurches/99624.htm. Accessed 22
January 2018.
16 Jarell Robinson-Brown, Black, Gay, British, Christian, Queer: The Church and the
Famine of Grace (London, UK: SCM Press, 2021).
17 Harvey Kwiyani, Multicultural Kingdom: Ethnic Diversity, Mission and the Church
(London: SCM Press, 2020); Israel Ofinjana, Reverse in Ministry and Missions:
Africans in the Dark Continent of Europe: an Historical Study of African Churches
in Europe (Central Milton Keynes: AuthorHouse, 2010); Harvey C. Kwyani, ‘Blessed
Reflex: African Christians in Europe,’ Missio Africanus: The Journal of African
Missiology 3, no. 1 (2017): 40–9.
18 H. Robert Rhoden, ‘The Essence of Pentecostal Worship,’ Enrichment Journal
(Summer 2003): 19–23. http://enrichmentjournal.ag.org/200303/200303_018_essence.
cfm. Accessed 15 May 2018.
19 Rhoden, ‘The Essence of Pentecostal Worship.’
20 Robert Woods and Brian Walrath eds. The Message in the Music: Studying
Contemporary Praise and Worship (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2007).
21 Pauline Muir discusses this phenomenon. It is the main point of her study of Black
(African) Church worship in London. See Pauline E. Muir, ‘Sounds Mega: Musical
Discourse in Black Majority Churches in London’ (PhD diss., Birkbeck College,
University of London, 2018).
22 George Ritzer, The McDonaldization of society: an investigation into the changing
character of contemporary social life (Thousand Oaks, CA: Pine Forge Press, 1996);
John W. Drane, The McDonaldization of the Church: Spirituality, Creativity and the
Future of the Church (London: Darton Longman & Todd, 2005).
23 Nelson Maldonado-Torres, ‘On the Coloniality of Being,’ Cultural Studies 21, nos. 2–3,
(March/May 2007): 240–70; Anthony G. Reddie, Is God Colour-Blind?: Insights from
Black Theology for Christian Faith and Ministry, rev. ed. (London: SPCK, 2020).
24 I have written about colonial Christianity and contemporary Black Christian experi
ence in Robert Beckford, Documentary as Exorcism: Resisting the Bewitchment of
Colonial Christianity (London: Bloomsbury, 2014).
25 Robert Beckford, ‘Duppy Conqueror’, My Theology 7 (London: DLT, 2021).
26 Informal conversation with young church leader, December 2019.
27 Deborah Smith Pollard, When the Church Becomes Your Party: Contemporary
Gospel Music (Detroit, Michigan: Wayne State University Press, 2008).
28 Melvin Butler, Island Gospel: Pentecostal Music and Identity in Jamaica and the
United States (Illinois: University of Illinois Press, 2019), 1.
29 James Abbington, ed., Readings in African American Church Music and Worship
(Chicago, IL: GIA Publications, 2001); James Abbington, ed., Readings in African
American Church Music and Worship, vol. 2 (Chicago, IL: GIA Publications, Inc.,
2014).
186 Robert Beckford
30 Robert Darden, People Get Ready! A New History of Black Gospel Music (New
York and London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2005).
31 Obery M. Hendricks, The Universe Bends Toward Justice: Radical Reflections on
the Bible, the Church, and the Body Politic (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2011).
32 Anna Chitando, Joseph Chikowero, and Angeline M. Madongonda, eds. The Art of
Survival: Depictions of Zimbabwe and the Zimbabwean in Crisis (Newcastle: Cam
bridge Scholars Press, 2015), 125ff.
33 John Lindenbaum, ‘The Neoliberalization of Contemporary Christian Music’s New
Social Gospel,’ Geoforum 44 (January 2013): 112–19.
34 Anne Garland Mahler, From the Tricontinental to the Global South: Race, Radical
ism, and Transnational Solidarity (Durham: Duke University, 2018).
35 Paul Gilroy, The Black Atlantic: modernity and double consciousness (1993; repr.,
London: Verso, 2007).
36 John Preston, Grenfell Tower: Preparedness, Race and Disaster Capitalism (London:
Palgrave Macmillan, 2019); Tracy Shildrick, ‘Lessons from Grenfell: Poverty propa
ganda, stigma and class power,’ The Sociological Review 66, no. 4 (2018).
37 Justin A. Williams, Brithop: The Politics of UK Rap in the New Century (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2021), 179ff.
38 See Ben Beaumont-Thomas, ‘Stormzy asks “Teresa May, where’s the money for
Grenfell?” at Brit award,’ The Guardian, 21 February 2018. https://www.theguardia
n.com/music/2018/feb/21/stormzy-asks-may-wheres-the-money-for-grenfell-at-brit-a
wards.
39 Beaumont-Thomas, ‘Stormzy asks “Teresa May, where’s the money for Grenfell?” at
Brit award.’
40 The Kingdom Choir, Stand By Me, Sony Music, 2018.
41 The Kingdom Choir, ‘Blinded by Your Grace: Pt.2.’ YouTube video. 2018. https://
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ciy7XqZZmY0.
42 Tony Prosser and Mark Taylor, The Grenfell Tower Fire: Benign neglect and the
road to an avoidable tragedy (London: Pavilion Publishing and Media Ltd, 2020).
43 Hendricks, The Universe Bends Toward Justice, 1–38.
44 Gayraud S. Wilmore, ‘Black Theology at the Turn of the Century: Some Unmet
Needs and Challenges,’ in Black Faith and public Talk: Critical Essays on James H.
Cone’s Black Theology and Black Power, edited by Dwight N. Hopkins (Waco, TX:
Baylor University Press, 2007), 232ff.
45 This point is identified but challenged in C. Howard, Black Theology as Mass
Movement (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016).
46 C. Eric Lincoln and Lawrence H. Mamiya, The Black Church in the African Amer
ican Experience (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1990).
47 Boaventura de Sousa Santos, Epistemologies of the South: Justice against Epistemi
cide (London: Routledge, 2017).
48 Linda Martin Alcoff, ‘Mignolo’s Epistemology of Coloniality,’ CR: The New Cen
tennial Review 7, no. 3 (2007): 79–101.
49 Beckford, Documentary As Exorcism.
50 Anthony G. Reddie, Dramatizing Theologies: A participative approach to black god-
talk, Cross Cultural Theologies (London: Routledge, 2013).
51 Jon M. Spencer, Theolomusicology (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1994).
52 Robert Beckford, ‘Jamaican Bible Remix: The Jamaican Bible Remix is a theo
musical Black theology of liberation,’ Canterbury Christ Church University, 2017.
https://www.canterbury.ac.uk/arts-and-humanities/school-of-humanities/religion-p
hilosophy-and-ethics/research/jamaican-bible-remix.aspx.
53 Martin Glynn, Speaking Data and Telling Stories: Data Verbalization for Research
ers (London: Routledge, 2019).
54 John S. McClure, Mashup Religion: Pop Music and Theological Invention (Waco,
TX: Baylor University Press, 2011), 9.
55 McClure, Mashup Religion.
56 Michael Fishbane, Sacred Attunement: A Jewish Theology (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 2008), 4.
57 See, Robert Beckford, Decolonizing Gospel Music Through Praxis: Handsworth
Revolutions, Bloomsbury Studies in Black Religion and Cultures (London: Blooms
bury, 2023).
58 Monique Charles, ‘Hallowed Be Thy Grime?: A Musicological and Sociological
Genealogy of Grime Music and Its Relation to Black Atlantic Religious Discourse’
(PhD diss., University of Warwick, 2016); Les Back, New Ethnicities and Urban
Culture: Social Identity and Racism in the Lives of Young People (1996, Ebook;
London: Routledge, 2017).
59 Josh Kun, Audiotopia: Music, Race, and America (Berkeley, CA: University of
California Press, 2005), 23.
60 Ifeona Fulani, ed., Archipelagos of Sound: Transnational Caribbeanities, Women
and Music. (Kingston: University of the West Indies Press, 2012).
61 Dick Hebdige, Cut ’n’ Mix: Culture, Identity and Caribbean Music (London: Rou
tledge, 1987).
62 MacRobert describes ‘artistry’ as a function of the church. Iain MacRobert, ‘Black
Pentecostalism: Its Origins, Functions and Theology: with Special Reference to a
Midland Borough’ (PhD diss., University of Birmingham, 1989).
63 Hebdige, Cut ’n’ Mix, 1987.
64 See Beckford, Jamaican Bible Remix. https://www.canterbury.ac.uk/arts-and-huma
nities/school-of-humanities/religion-philosophy-and-ethics/research/jamaican-bible
remix.aspx.
65 I was inspired by the music of the African British musician, performer and producer,
Ty. His 2003 release ‘Groovement (Pt 1)’ from the ‘Upwards’ album (2003) is a sonic
example of the entanglement of the tri-continental music(s) that inform con
temporary Black British music.
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9 Black British Gospel Music and the
Question of Belief (in God)
Alexander Douglas
Over the years, I have been asked two recurring questions: (a) ‘Do you
have to believe in Jesus to sing gospel music?’ (b) ‘Can white people sing
gospel music?’ Without exception, these interlocutors ask either or both
questions with point-blank awareness of my identity as a black1 gospel
choral director; in nearly all cases, they have also had some reason to
become aware of my identity as a practising Christian. This chapter con-
stitutes one way in which Black British Gospel Music (BBGM) comes into
constructive dialogue with philosophy of religion without minimising the
theological dimension that is intrinsic to ‘gospel’ music (i.e. not just BBGM)2
with the two aforementioned questions at the heart of this enterprise.
We will begin with a brief account of some personal experiences as a prac-
titioner of gospel music that relate to reasons why I have developed a very
significant interest in the sacred music of J.S. Bach and the influence of his
music – not least with regard to how it exemplifies belief and faith – on my
own creative formation as a practitioner of BBGM, particularly with regard to
composing and arranging.3 From that discussion, we will then connect the
two aforementioned questions to a more formal philosophical discussion in
order to provide some tools for the reader to think more seriously about
the roles of belief (and faith) in BBGM. Ideally, this will result in having
created conditions for understanding the specific position that will then be
proposed.
A Brief Autoethnography of Choral Directing Practice

At this time of writing (2022), I am a member of two online communities set
up specifically for those who practise as (professional) choral directors.4
Although both would want to insist that they are open to all (and in principle,
this is indeed the case), the conversation in one group is routinely dominated
by people writing from the US and Canada, and in the other group, the con-
versation is routinely dominated by people writing from the UK. I will here-
after refer to these as the ‘US’ and ‘UK’ groups, respectively. Since the murder of
George Perry Floyd, Jr. (1973–2020), conversations in both groups have taken
some specific and contrasting turns on the subject of b/Black gospel music.
192 Alexander Douglas
However, the scale and specificity of these conversational trajectories have
been very different across both groups.
One of the things all choral directors (professional and amateur alike) who
take this work seriously learn to become aware of is the importance of finding
effective and appropriate ‘warm-ups’ for use at the beginning of rehearsals. It
is not an overstatement to say that choral directors working across almost
every genre of music that can be sung using the framework of Western music
theory are always on the lookout for short, catchy, easily singable vignettes
that are not only fun to sing but which also achieve the work of preparing
voices for a sustained period of intensive singing. The tradition of short
choruses that is part of multiple Black Sacred Music5 traditions has become a
particularly important source of warm-up material for choral directors and
their ensembles working across many different musical genres, and this has
inevitably raised questions concerning how the explicitly religious sentiments
of nearly all such choruses are navigated in contexts where confessional
Christianity is not only non-formative but in fact antithetical to the ethos of
the group in question. In the case of both groups, the ‘post-George Floyd’
conversations about gospel music more broadly have developed in relation to
previous conversations about the use of gospel material in choosing warm-ups.
I have been a professional gospel choral director in the UK for long enough
to have experienced a time where one could go into all sorts of educational
environments and lead gospel singing, including the use of songs with lyrics
that included ‘Jesus.’ As long as a gospel choral director did not attempt to
force their beliefs in any way,6 the music was simply taken as music. But while
I would not want to say exactly when, much less how, there was a period of
time during which it gradually became clear that gospel choral directors would
have to change their approach/es to ‘multi-faith’ environments and as such,
anything with explicitly confessionally religious lyrics either had to be jet-
tisoned for something else, or said lyrics would have to be altered in some
way. This is the context which led to one particular anecdote that has been
shared in a number of conversational contexts about choral education out-
reach in the UK, and I personally was present in one learning environment7 in
which said anecdote was shared as an example of good practice: a white Brit-
ish choral director with no connections to the Black Church goes to a school to
take a singing workshop, and one of the warm-ups chosen is the traditional
gospel chorus My God Is a Good God. No sooner had the workshop leader
(‘animateur’) started to sing this chorus then they were forcibly beckoned out
of the teaching space by a member of staff who informed them that there was
no way they could sing that chorus with the young people in that space.
Thinking very fast indeed, the animateur came up with an idea to save the
situation and went back out and began singing, ‘My dog is a good dog.’ Problem
solved.
Sitting in that room with my fellow directors hearing this recounted, I
immediately felt extremely negative about the whole situation. To this day, it
remains a source of angst that I sat quietly in a room and let this be celebrated
Black British Gospel Music and the Question of Belief (in God) 193
around me as innovative pedagogy without saying a word. This anecdote was
eventually cited in the aforementioned UK online group, right about the time
when the very choral director in question joined the group – and this time, I
did ‘speak up.’ And what I have experienced (and continue to experience) –
including on that occasion – is that whenever any gospel choral director has
attempted to stress the importance of taking the faith traditions from which gospel
music emerges as seriously as possible without necessarily subscribing to such
beliefs, almost all of those who choose to respond to such discussion points take a
negative stance towards this position. One consequence of this is that I personally
no longer engage in conversations on this subject in this online community.
Things have been very different in the US group, where an intensely vibrant
conversation about the ethical dimensions of warm-up choices had been up
and running long before May 2020. As I recall, someone raised the question of
whether or not what they called ‘the ice-cream truck song’ should still be sung
as a warm-up.8 This led to discussions about the origins of Turkey in the
Straw, and after a very significant amount of discussion, the majority position
certainly appeared to be a complete disavowal of not only ‘the ice-cream truck
song’ but any and every song in which people were negatively ‘othered.’ It was
acknowledged that we can never know the true origins of every single extract
of music that exists, but where one could find a way to not be complicit in that
type of negativity, one should choose that path.
Since the global escalation of #BlackLivesMatter after May 2020, in light of
the conversations about ‘reparations’ with specific regard to racial justice in
the US, the majority position in the US online group regarding the ethics of
repertoire choices beyond warm-ups as well as including warm-ups could per-
haps be stated something like this: in the case of warm-ups which are simply
utilised to serve an ‘operational’ function (getting people’s bodies and minds
ready for serious singing), any music that expresses or symbolises a sacred
tradition or similar cognate context should not ever be used for such purposes
as a sign of respect to the people groups for whom the music in question has
special significance. Material from such traditions can, of course, be ‘per-
formed’ by choral ensembles of any background, and the onus is on the choral
director to do the work of ensuring that what takes place is not ethically dis-
creditable. This led to a short burst of pushback from what appeared to be
mostly African-American choral directors who appeared to feel very strongly
about the fact that music/s of the Black diaspora should really only be sung by
‘culture bearers’; however, there were a similar number of choral directors
who also appeared to self-identify as ‘Black’ who made it clear that they did
not agree with this.
The overwhelming majority of members of the US group are not known to
me. This is not the case with the UK group, and since May 2020, my experi-
ence has been that whenever gospel music becomes a subject of conversation, if
there is a single dominant/recurring theme, it would be that choral directors
are making more and more decisions to use gospel material and feel no ethical
imperative against changing any words that they want to change. From the
outset, I have steadfastly refused to take part in conversations on this parti-
cular subject, but those who object to this practice always find themselves in
the minority. In addition, BBGM almost never features in any conversations in
this UK group, so when songs are being selected and their lyrics edited, they
are almost always from African-American Gospel Music (AAGM).
Can White People Sing Gospel Music?

It has now become clear that when a white interlocutor has asked me whether
or not white people can sing gospel music, I may not always have understood
exactly what they have meant by ‘can.’ Until very recently, I have habitually
assumed that such a question is essentially about whether or not white people
possess the ability or the capacity to sing this music. Given that I have done
the vast majority of my very best work as a gospel choir director with (what I
call) ‘non-confessional’ gospel choirs populated by mostly white people, as far
as I am concerned, this is a non-question. But I now understand that in some
cases, the question may have, in fact, been whether it is permissible for white
people to sing gospel music – as in, whether or not they are allowed to sing this
music given that they have neither the identity nor the lived experiences of b/
Black people. Sometimes questions of this order are worded with sufficient
clarity so as to ensure that this sort of ambiguity does not exist, but the question
of the extent to which ‘lived experience’ contributes towards performative
‘authenticity’ takes us back to the question of whether or not one has to believe in
Jesus/God to sing and play gospel music. In thinking about this question more
deeply, it became clear that it is easy to make a simple assertion of the ‘yes/no’
variety, but if either position had to be defended (not least theologically), cracks
would immediately appear in any reasoning structure that was presented. To
understand why this is so, let us turn to the sacred music of J.S. Bach.
J.S. Bach and the Question of Belief in God

In a fascinating discussion entitled ‘The Mechanics of Faith,’ the esteemed
conductor Sir John Eliot Gardiner undertakes a brief critical-historical review
of what he takes to be the crucial niceties of Bach’s religious formation.9
Towards the end of this chapter, he writes: ‘[j]ust as there are many non-reli-
gious aficionados of Bach’s church music, so there are atheists among Bach-
loving professional musicians.’10 If Bach’s music is a legitimate analogue for
BBGM, this position could be seen as constituting support for the position that
one need not believe in God to sing/play gospel music, a position that might
also be taken as self-evident. However, in spoken conversations, Gardiner has
made reference to a necessary ‘suspension of disbelief’11 and related variants,
and towards the end of this same chapter, he writes:
One of the most widely revered figures among contemporary European

composers, György Kurtág, recently confessed, ‘Consciously I am certainly
an atheist, but I do not say it out loud, because if I look at Bach, I cannot
be an atheist. Then I have to accept the way he believed. His music never
stops praying. And how can I get closer if I look at him from the outside? I
do not believe in the Gospels in a literal fashion, but a Bach fugue has the
Crucifixion in it…’12
There is so much that would ideally be said about how one might respond to
all this, but in light of the final destination of this chapter, I offer a personal
(as opposed to an academic) note: despite not sharing Kurtág’s atheism, and
despite the fact that this music was written at the high noon of imperial mod-
ernity, I too have experienced a strong desire to learn more about how Bach
believed, and I believe I know exactly what Kurtág meant by saying that
Bach’s music ‘never stops praying.’ As a postgraduate conducting student, I
made a special study of Bach’s sacred music, and as a consequence, the gospel
music that I have been trying to write since then as a Black British gospel
practitioner is connected to not only my formative identity as a child of the
Black diaspora in the UK and the pioneers of Black Sacred Music in many
forms, but also the work of J.S. Bach whose extraordinary dedication to the
specificity of his craft and vocation forced me in no uncertain terms to return
to the sacred music of my own heritage and ask if it was possible for someone
like me to write new music within my own traditions to a standard of thought
that resulted in people I would never meet and who might never share my
own beliefs catching a vision of the gospel – a gospel that transcends the
specificity/ies of culture.
Belief and Faith in BBGM: Thinking Philosophically
And so we come to the central question at the heart of this chapter: what is the
role of faith and belief in BBGM? Keeping the foregoing firmly in view, we
now turn to philosophy of religion. There are two contrasting hypotheses
(philosophers call these ‘propositions’) that we will discuss. However, before
we get to them, let us continue to ‘create the conditions’ for the discussion that
is to come.
~
Writing at an especially challenging time for race relations in the UK,
Emmanuel Lartey argued that
…theologians are people who reflect upon their faith and attempt to
articulate it…. Theology is expressed through many media and in many
forms. Art, music, and drama are valid ways through which the fruits of a
theologian’s efforts may be made known. These can in themselves be
theological forms.13
In a chapter entitled ‘What’s wrong with theory and why we still need it,’ Ian
Craib suggests that ‘the problems that force people to theory do not belong
solely to sociological research; they are problems we all face in our everyday
lives, problems of making sense of what happens to us and the people around
us.’14, 15 Shortly thereafter, he writes: ‘Because we start with the result, it is too
easy for students and teachers to imagine that the whole process is a matter of
learning what various theorists have said – of learning theories.’16 Craib’s point
could be applied to the conversations that take place as part of theological dis
course as follows: because we start with what comes into our individual and col
lective spheres of existence as pre-existing biblical and theological positions (the
‘results’), it has become too easy for people interested in Christianity and its
teachings to assume that learning about this faith (whether in seminary class
rooms or local church Bible study groups) is a matter of learning what other
people have said about the Bible and about theological ideas.
Craib suggests that the goal is learning to think theoretically rather than
simply learning theory/ies and develops his argument by suggesting the ana
logy of learning a language not by a nicely sanitised process of learning rules
of grammar, spelling and lists of vocabulary but, in fact by being uncer
emoniously dumped into a country where there is no translator, thus forcing
one to learn the language by listening and imitating. However, Craib suddenly
shifts gears and takes the conversation in a somewhat different direction. In
what follows, the word/s ‘theology’ and ‘theologically’ have been substituted
for the original word/s ‘theory’ and ‘theoretically’; otherwise, the quote is
verbatim:
…the problems which lead people to [theology] are problems we all face in
our everyday lives. I think the truth is that we all think [theologically], but
in a way of which we are not often aware. What we are not used to is
thinking [theologically] in a systematic manner, with all the various con
straints and rigours that involves; when we do see such thinking, it is at
first foreign to us.17
Craib’s andragogical strategy18 takes the form of presupposing that all of us are
engaging at a higher threshold of theoretical activity than some of us may think.
As such, readers of his volume may, in fact, be closer to understanding the
difficult technical concepts he will be explicating than they might have assumed.
And the same exercise of replacing ‘theory’ with ‘theology’ can also be under
taken by substituting ‘philosophy’ for ‘theology.’
With this basic groundwork now in place, let us take a look at these two
propositions.
~
In philosophy, a proposition is a technical word. It denotes a specific way
of stating a position, not least for purposes of analysis (including comparison
with other propositions). I will first set these out in an appropriately ‘philo
sophical’ manner, and then we will look at them as ideas expressed less
‘formally.’
� BBGM (G) is a doxastic venture (Gd)

� BBGM (again, G) is NOT a doxastic venture (Gnd)
Our ‘subject,’ BBGM, can be represented by a shorthand referent and on this

occasion, I have chosen ‘G’ (for ‘gospel,’ with the understanding that the sub
ject ‘gospel’ in this proposition refers specifically to ‘BBGM’). The predicates in
relation to ‘G’ are doxastic and nondoxastic (d and nd, respectively); those
might less formally be understood as qualifiers. ‘Doxastic’ is a ‘word-concept’
that has stimulated many thousands of pages; for our purposes, let us under
stand it as coming from the Ancient Greek δοξασία (transliterated into doxasía)
and meaning ‘belief, opinion, conviction.’ The two predicates might seem to be
opposites, but things are not quite that straightforward. The concept of oppo
sites in ‘black’ and ‘white’ within colour theory is not the same as ‘b/Black and
white’ in terms of ethnicity taxonomies. Both of these are, again, not the same
as ‘Labour’ and ‘Conservative’ or (perhaps more appropriately) ‘Roman
Catholic’ and ‘Protestant’ (here, a ridiculously large number of caveats and
qualifiers would be necessary). Counterintuitive as it may seem, the idea that
‘theist’ and ‘atheist’ are opposites that represent belief and disbelief as para
digms of both thought and action does not really stand up to scrutiny – but let
us now put this into the context of BBGM.
We could restate these propositions as follows:
� BBGM is an enterprise that by definition involves belief

� BBGM is not an enterprise that by definition involves belief
Consider the difference between ‘BBGM is not an enterprise that involves belief’
and ‘BBGM is an enterprise that by definition involves unbelief.’ The first,
stated in the negative, holds that belief is not intrinsic to BBGM. In the broad
est sense, this means that any type of attitude of belief is not necessary to par
ticipate in BBGM in any way (thereby including writing, arranging, rehearsing,
directing, producing, performing and listening). The second, stated in the posi
tive, is that unbelief is intrinsic to BBGM. We get the second if we assume that
Gd and Gnd are ‘opposites’ of the kind that would result in this pair of
propositions:
a BBGM is an enterprise that by definition involves belief

b BBGM is an enterprise that by definition involves unbelief
Another way to understand what is going on here would be to consider a

question along the lines of ‘What is the opposite of truth?’ This is where we
need to remember Craib’s position that we need to think (in this case, philo
sophically) rather than merely remember what someone else has said about the
situation under consideration. As such, suppose that an answer given to the
question just asked is ‘lie.’ This would, of course, not be the end of the matter;
a ‘lie’ represents intent to deceive, but not everything that is ‘other-than-true’ is
a consequence of intentionality to deceive. As such, a lie is always an untruth,
but an untruth is not always a lie. So rather than assuming that ‘truth’ must
have an ‘opposite,’ we can instead say that there is either ‘truth’ (T) or ‘not
truth’ (not-T).
On a more ‘sociological’ reading of this last pair of propositions, one could
attempt to argue simplistically that both are true on the basis that there will
always be ‘those who believe’ and ‘those who do not believe’ within the ranks
of those who participate in BBGM. This would seem to be an eminently rea
sonable assumption, but can it actually be justified?
If BBGM is not ‘doxastic’ (Gnd), that would mean that any kind of belief
does not matter in this context – not just belief in God. This could arguably be
restated simply by saying something like, ‘You don’t have to believe in God/
Christianity to participate in BBGM, but if you do believe, then obviously that’s
not a problem.’ Part of what makes this restatement interesting is the ambiguity
that has suddenly been generated about whether or not belief in God is, in fact,
intrinsically positive when it comes to participation in BBGM. Consider the
following:
(A) ‘belief-in’ God

(B) ‘non-belief-in’ God
(C) ‘belief-in’ not-God
(D) ‘non-belief’ in anything
A, B and C are in a specific relationship; here, D is the odd one out and
represents an agnostic position. In the words of Thomas Huxley (who came
up with the word in the nineteenth century), ‘[a]gnosticism…simply means
that a man shall not say he knows or believes that which he has no scien
tific grounds for professing to know or believe. Consequently, agnosticism
puts aside not only the greater part of popular theology, but also the greater
part of anti-theology.’19 Technically speaking, ‘agnostic’ cannot be a noun
like ‘theist’ and ‘atheist,’ despite the fact that it is often used as such. One
could be agnostic about many things, not just the question of whether or
not God exists. But on the question of God’s existence, agnosticism poses a
more technically compelling question than is usually supposed: the issue is not a
simple renunciation of the binary between whether God does or does not exist,
but rather the position that it is impossible for anyone to know whether or not
God exists. A and B would normally be taken at face value as being simple
binary opposing positions, but this oversimplifies matters. A represents a
‘positive’ belief in God, whereas, at first sight, B represents a more ‘negative’
position: the disavowal of a positive belief in God. However, B can only exist in
relation to the concepts of ‘belief-in’ and ‘God’; it is an example of a con
sequence of a position that does not stand on its own. C appears to solve this
problem by offering a more ‘positive’ position: active belief in the non-exis
tence of God. However, while it is true that constructive belief is less passive
than mere non-belief, in this instance, it is still positive belief in a negative
entity. In the general scheme of life, these positions may be more or less
interesting to those more or less interested in such questions. But in thinking
about both gospel music more broadly and BBGM more specifically, these
issues come alive.
Belief and Faith: Two Musical Case Studies

I have a special interest in Bach’s cantatas, the overwhelming majority of which
were written specifically for performance in corporate worship. One of the
most important of these is known by the shorter title Actus tragicus (BWV 106)
and
raises the delicate issue of religious belief – whether the partial or total
presence (or absence) in the listener can influence receptivity to music. It
would be invidious to insist that a person needs to hold Christian beliefs in
order to appreciate Bach’s church music. Yet it is certainly the case that
without some familiarity with the religious ideas with which it is imbued
one can miss so many nuances, even the way his later music can be seen to
act as a critique of Christian theology.20
Perhaps one of the most challenging issues in AAGM – conspicuously not

ignored by scholarship on AAGM – is what Jones describes as ‘heterosexist
rhetoric.’
…members of the broader Pentecostal community view queer sexuality as a

malady with which one struggles and from which one should be set free.
Tonéx21 demonstrates strategies for homosexual men to creatively perform
a progressive black sexuality that stretches beyond traditional Christian
beliefs regarding what is appropriate to celebrate and praise God about
corporately among other believers.22
We need one more item of thought before drawing the threads of this particular
discussion moment together. Recounting an exchange with ‘an openly gay
research conversation partner’ about an unnamed ‘iconic gospel artist,’ Jones
quotes said conversation partner as follows:
There is no way you can listen to his music and not feel the presence of
God… His anointing is unmistakable and it is beyond me why his homo
sexuality matters to anyone. Without question, his gifts have brought mil
lions of people to God. He is gay. Telling people would mean undoing his
life’s work. All you have to do is experience his music. Nothing else
matters.23
Here we have two ‘case study moments’ of vastly different provenance that
both raise issues about the specificity of sacred Christian music and doxasti
cism. In the first case, one of Bach’s indisputably authoritative interpreters tells
us that without an apprehension of Christian belief, there is much in Bach that
a listener cannot understand – but this plane of analysis is extended to the
suggestion that the doxastic elements of Bach’s compositional output could also
include a critique – enacted in music rather than in words – of Christian
theology itself. Part of Gardiner’s erudite and deeply-technically-informed dis
cussion is an exposition of how the specific musical niceties in the Actus tragi
cus represent much more than the musical notes and rhythms in and of
themselves. In the second case, before one gets to the specificity of the chal
lenges the artist formerly known as Tonéx has experienced, Jones has both an
ideological and pedagogical agenda regarding the idea that ‘the presence of
God’ can be experienced through gospel music artistry on the part of practi
tioners who are not part of the heteropatriarchal normativities that continue to
dominate the structures of the ecclesiastical communities from which AAGM
has emerged. A paradox at this moment is that Jones is both explicit and
implicit in asserting that if the sound of contemporary gospel music is taken to
be a sound of worship that brings people into the presence of God and that this
sound can be realised by artists whose identities function beyond heterosexual
norms, then this is one peculiarly strong argument for the position that homo
sexuality, far from being a ‘sin,’ is something to be celebrated and those wish
ing to argue against this position will have to find a much greater depth of
argument than has so far been deemed necessary. Conversations of this order
are very much alive within private enclaves of BBGM practitioners and take
place about BBGM as well as AAGM, but, at this time, there is no formal
published scholarship on matters such as this specific to BBGM. While one
looks forward to the development of research activity in BBGM, let me now
articulate the final position that was promised in the opening paragraph and a
short summary of some of the reasoning that supports this position.
Conclusion
Gospel music is a doxastic venture, and without getting into any of the chal
lenges of aesthetics that exist with regard to BBGM, there is no way that
BBGM can be anything other than a doxastic venture. One reason why it is
important to think in this way despite the challenges it offers rather than a
more superficial approach that simply allows one to say that ‘it does not matter
whether or not one believes in God’ is that while there is both a moral and
ethical imperative for including everybody who makes a decision to participate
in BBGM, a policy of inclusivity should not exist in a way that actively mini
mises the importance of a doxastic position that is unambiguously theistic. It
would be wrong to diminish the agency and personhood of those who either do
not or cannot believe in God and those who actively believe that there is no
God. At the same time, there is an ethical failure that is also an act of intel
lectual calumny involved in diminishing theistic belief participating in BBGM:
gospel music in all its manifestations (thereby including BBGM) could not exist
without the specificities of theistic belief. Moreover, on an anthropological
level, not only is the entire history of Black Sacred Music emblematic of a
doxastic positionality in which enslaved peoples refused to accept that they
were inferior, but in the sordid history of the way/s in which many British
churches refused to accept black Christians when they arrived in more sig
nificant numbers on the H.M.S. Windrush 24 and onwards, BBGM came into
existence as a crucial and indispensable way for black Christians to realise their
own agency as (a) people who now had to understand themselves as ‘black’
rather than as ‘Jamaican,’ ‘Trinidadian,’ ‘Guyanese,’ etc.; (b) people who had
exercised their own agency in becoming Christians and as such had to re-
understand their own selves as Christians who were not simply Christians
because they had been colonised. The challenge for those who disavow the
specificity of Christian belief whilst being attracted to the specificity of the
gospel sound is the fact that in a manner that is directly analogous to the sacred
music of J.S. Bach, gospel music is a product of faith – and moreover, a faith
that is intrinsically doxastic in character.
As such, to participate in BBGM is to participate in something that not only
affirms the worth and value of the Black diaspora in Britain but also the
mechanisms and structures that have enabled Black British people to find their
way in British society without abdicating their black identities. Although the
consumption of AAGM in multiple constituencies within British society
remains much greater than that of BBGM, one can yet hope for a day when
BBGM is singularly more ubiquitous than is the case at present. To this end,
the pioneering work of Oscar Stewart,25 Bazil Meade,26 Ken Burton27 and
Karen Gibson28 (spanning the best part of six decades) has laid some incredibly
important foundations upon which future generations must continue to build.
Notes
1 As a Tanzanian-born Guyanese person who has held British nationality from birth,
despite the fact that I accept that others (not least African-Americans) have accep
ted what I characterise elsewhere as ‘colour taxonomies,’ I do not personally accept
the conceptual validity of these designations. To that end, along with several other
African-Caribbean academics (not least Stuart Hall, Paul Gilroy, Fumi Okiji and
others), I self-identify as ‘black,’ not ‘Black’ for the practical purposes of antira
cism and anticolonialism. As such, in referring to myself or in any other context
where I know my positionality obtains, I use ‘black.’ But for wider diasporic
assignations, I use b/Black (inspired by d/Deaf) so that all bases are covered. See
Douglas Alexander, ‘A Critique of Ethnicity Taxonomies,’ Alexander Douglas
(blog), 7 May 2021. https://alexanderdouglas.info/2021/05/07/a-critique-of-ethnici
ty-taxonomies?fbclid=IwAR37HKYjRh4PEbj_I8NZKZIwOSajXfxoOrBypzH-p
qlxQg35QXho SdLiQ8k.
2 Despite the fact that these terms are more contested than ever before, it remains
customary to make a distinction between ‘Continental’ (European) philosophy and
‘analytic’ (Anglo-American) philosophy. The sub-discipline ‘philosophy of religion’ is
practised by both Continental and analytic philosophers, but traditionally the sub
discipline known as ‘philosophical theology’ has tended to look towards Continental
philosophy whilst remaining a ‘theology’ enterprise and ‘philosophy of religion’ has
tended to be the provenance of analytic philosophers. Within analytic philosophy of
religion there is a more recent research area that takes faith as its primary research
object, and some of the important names in this field include Daniel Howard-Snyder,
Daniel McKaughan, Robert Audi, Lara Buchak, Jonathan Kvanvig, Richard Swin
burne, John Bishop and Duncan Pritchard. More recently still, this research area has
finally gained a name of its own. According to Rice, McKaughan and Howard-
Snyder, ‘pistology…is the interdisciplinary study of the nature, value, and rationality
of faith, where faith is thought of as a psychological attitude, state, or trait. Pistol
ogy is of considerable social importance today, not least because how issues about
faith get framed and resolved today will likely affect how generations to come think
about those issues.’ Rebekah L.H. Rice, Daniel McKaughan, and Daniel Howard-
Snyder, ‘Special (Double) Issue: Approaches to Faith: Guest Editorial Preface,’ in
International Journal for Philosophy of Religion 81, no. 1–2 (April 2017): 1. https://
doi.org/10.1007/s11153-016-9610-1. This article is a very good entry point for a basic
understanding of pistology and although this chapter makes no direct reference to
any of these thinkers, the philosophical discussion that follows is informed by this
discursive arena.
3 In his introduction to Volume 1 of Stuart Hall: Essential Essays, the editor David
Morley notes that ‘Stuart himself was always resistant to mere autobiography –
although there is a moment at which he remarks that there are points when one has
to speak autobiographically, not in order to seize “the authority of authenticity” but
in order to properly situate oneself in relation to the circumstances in which one has
lived and worked.
Thus, in telling his own family story, as he does in the interview with Kuan-Hsing
Chen reprinted in chapter 6 of Essential Essays, Volume 2, he implicitly follows the
Irish poet Patrick Kavanagh’s injunction that the self is only interesting as an illus
tration, by rendering his experiential account of discovering his own blackness in
tandem with its own theorization as part of the diasporic experience of being per
ipheral, displaced, and marginalized’. Stuart Hall, Stuart Hall: Essential Essays, vol.
2, Identity and Diaspora, ed. David G. Morley (Durham: Duke University Press,
2019), 2.
It is this exact same spirit that I tell my own story as the precursor to my
‘argument.’
4 For ethical reasons that include the maintaining of safe spaces, I will not name these
communities explicitly.
5 This refers specifically to diasporic music/s.
6 While is it usually assumed that this means Christian religious beliefs, good practice
has in fact held that neither pro- or anti-religious beliefs should be promulgated in
this sort of space. And with regard to explaining a religious concept espoused in
lyrics, it is also expected that a secular analogue will be found, as is the case with
other forms of sacred music sung/played by secular performing communities.
7 Namely, a class in choral outreach skills that was part of the MA programme in
Choral Conducting at the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama. This is as
much as can be said in this context.
8 See, for example, this NPR article: Theodore R. Johnson III, ‘Recall That Ice Cream
Truck Song? We Have Unpleasant News For You,’ NPR, 11 May 2014, https://www.
npr.org/sections/codeswitch/2014/05/11/310708342/recall-that-ice-cream-truck-song
we-have-unpleasant-news-for-you?t=1645702821961.
9 Musicologists and conductors (occasionally one and the same) such as Eric Chafe,
Joshua Rifkin, John Butt and Christoph Wolff have been endeavoured to expli
cate the Lutheran theology that undergirds J.S. Bach’s sacred music; Gardiner
stands in this tradition. However, an exposition of the often-very-problematic
theological trajectory of these discussions is a task that cannot be undertaken
here.
10 John Eliot Gardiner, Music in the Castle of Heaven: A Portrait of Johann Sebastian
Bach (London: Penguin Books, 2014), 154.
11 Another esteemed conductor, the late Sir Colin Davis made a very similar point in a
2011 Guardian interview: see Tom Service, ‘Sir Colin Davis: “You Are of No
Account Whatsoever,”’ The Guardian, 12 May 2011, https://www.theguardian.
com/music/2011/may/12/sir-colin-davis.
12 John Eliot Gardiner, Music in the Castle of Heaven, 154.
13 Emmanuel Lartey, ‘After Stephen Lawrence: Characteristics and Agenda for Black
Theology.’ Black Theology in Britain: A Journal of Contextual Praxis 3 (1999), 79–
91. 81, quoted in Dulcie Dixon McKenzie, ‘Toward Teaching Black Theology
Through Black Gospel Music in Britain,’ in Discourse: Learning and Teaching in
Philosophical and Religious Studies 8, no. 2 (Spring 2009), 162.
14 Ian Craib, Modern Social Theory: From Parsons to Habermas (Harlow, Essex: Pre
ntice Hall, 1992).
15 Ian Craib, Modern Social Theory: From Parsons to Habermas, 3.
16 Craib, Modern Social Theory, 5 (italics in original).
17 Craib, Modern Social Theory, 5–6.
18 Andragogy refers to methods and principles used in adult education. The word
comes from the Greek ἀνδρ- (andr-), meaning ‘man,’ and ἀγωγός (agogos), meaning
‘leader of.’ Therefore, andragogy literally means ‘leading man,’ whereas ‘pedagogy’
literally means ‘leading children.’ Malcolm Knowles is an important name in this
field.
19 Thomas Henry Huxley, ‘Agnosticism: A Symposium,’ in Agnostic Annual, 1884. The
name of the editor is not given; this historical material is found at http://aleph0.cla
rku.edu/huxley/UnColl/Rdetc/AgnAnn.html.
20 Gardiner, Music in the Castle of Heaven, 152–153.
21 Despite the fact that it remains fashionable to lampoon Wikipedia in academic cir
cles, given the number of badly-contrived sources on the internet this one may be the
best of the easy-access sources: ‘B. Slade,’ in Wikipedia, 30 October 2022, https://en.
wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=B.Slade&oldid=1118980585.
22 Alisha Lola Jones, Flaming? The Peculiar Theopolitics of Fire and Desire in Black
Male Gospel Performance (New York: Oxford University Press, 2020), 171.
23 Alisha Lola Jones, Flaming? The Peculiar Theopolitics of Fire and Desire in Black
Male Gospel Performance, 173.
24 See, for example: Lucy Rodgers and Maryam Ahmed, ‘Windrush: Who exactly was
on board?’ BBC, 21 June 2019, https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-43808007.
25 Oscar Stewart has been recognised as perhaps the first significant pioneer of gospel
music in the United Kingdom. Although as yet there is no public authoritative source
about his life and work, through the very close connections between my family and
his family I was privileged to know him personally and watch him at work. Through
informal conversations I have understood that as early as 1964 his family group The
Singing Stewarts were being recognised in local press in the West Midlands. For
several years The Singing Stewarts took a programme to the Edinburgh Festival
Fringe and Oscar directed the best ‘youth choir’ (in the gospel tradition) in the
Seventh-day Adventist Church in Britain, eventually superseded only by Ken Burton’s
work in Croydon. To the best of my knowledge, no one since Oscar (myself inclu
ded) has succeeded in teaching a group of Black Church (i.e. all such denominations)
from the North of England singers the (original) ‘Hallelujah’ from Handel’s Messiah
to any kind of performing standard.
26 Given that at this time of writing Bazil Meade’s personal website is down, please see
Grimmer, Steven. ‘Bazil Meade MBE | Coronavirus & the Music Industry.’ Premier
Gospel (blog), 21 April 2020. https://premiergospel.org.uk/latest-news/bazil-meade-m
be-coronavirus-the-music-industry/.
27 See Official Ken Burton, ‘Home | Ken Burton,’ https://www.kenburton.com.
28 See ‘Karen Gibson,’ in Wikipedia, 8 February 2023, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.
php?title=Karen_Gibson&oldid=1138110976.
References
Alexander, Douglas. ‘A Critique of Ethnicity Taxonomies.’ Alexander Douglas (blog),
7 May 2021. https://alexanderdouglas.info/2021/05/07/a-critique-of-ethnicity-taxonom
ies/?fbclid=IwAR37HKYjRh4PEbj_I8NZKZIwOSajXfxoOrBypzH-p
qlxQg35QXhoSdLiQ8k.
‘B.Slade.’ Wikipedia, 30 October2022. https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=B.Sla
de&oldid=1118980585.
Craib, Ian. Modern Social Theory: From Parsons to Habermas. 2nd ed. Harlow: Pearson
Education, 2007.
Gardiner, John Eliot. Music in the Castle of Heaven: A Portrait of Johann Sebastian
Bach. London: Penguin Books, 2014.
Grimmer, Steven. ‘Bazil Meade MBE | Coronavirus & the Music Industry.’ Premier
Gospel (blog), 21 April2020. https://premiergospel.org.uk/latest-news/bazil-meade-m
be-coronavirus-the-music-industry/.
Hall, Stuart. Stuart Hall: Essential Essays. Vol. 1, Foundations of Cultural Studies.
Edited by David Morley. Durham: Duke University Press, 2018.
Hall, Stuart. Stuart Hall: Essential Essays. Vol. 2, Identity and Diaspora. Edited by
David G. Morley. Durham: Duke University Press, 2019.
Huxley, Thomas Henry. ‘Agnosticism: A Symposium.’ Agnostic Annual, 1884. http://a
leph0.clarku.edu/huxley/UnColl/Rdetc/AgnAnn.html.
Johnson III, Theodore R. ‘Recall That Ice Cream Truck Song? We Have Unpleasant
News For You.’ NPR, 11 May2014. https://www.npr.org/sections/codeswitch/2014/05/
11/310708342/recall-that-ice-cream-truck-song-we-have-unpleasant-news-for-you?t=
1645702821961.
Jones, Alisha Lola. Flaming? The Peculiar Theopolitics of Fire and Desire in Black Male
Gospel Performance. New York: Oxford University Press, 2020.
‘Karen Gibson.’ Wikipedia, 8 February2023. https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=
Karen_Gibson&oldid=1138110976.
Knowles, Malcolm S. ‘Andragogy: Adult Learning Theory in Perspective.’ Community Col
lege Review 5, no. 3 (January 1978): 9–20. https://doi.org/10.1177/009155217800500302.
Lartey, Emmanuel. ‘After Stephen Lawrence: Characteristics and Agenda for Black
Theology.’ Black Theology in Britain: A Journal of Contextual Praxis 3 (1999): 79–91.
McKenzie, Dulcie Dixon. ‘Toward Teaching Black Theology Through Black Gospel
Music in Britain.’ Discourse: Learning and Teaching in Philosophical and Religious
Studies 8, no. 2 (Spring2009): 127–171.
Official Ken Burton. ‘Home | Ken Burton.’ https://www.kenburton.com.
Rice, Rebekah L. H., Daniel McKaughan, and Daniel Howard-Snyder. ‘Special (Double)
Issue: Approaches to Faith: Guest Editorial Preface.’ International Journal for Philo
sophy of Religion 81, no. 1–2 (April2017): 1–6. https://doi.org/10.1007/
s11153-016-9610-1.
Rodgers, Lucy and Maryam Ahmed. ‘Windrush: Who exactly was on board?’ BBC, 21
June2019. https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-43808007.
Service, Tom. ‘Sir Colin Davis: “You Are of No Account Whatsoever.”’ The Guardian,
12 May 2011. https://www.theguardian.com/music/2011/may/12/sir-colin-davis.
10 Decolonising Congregational Music
Pauline Muir
Perusal of the Christian Congregational License International (CCLI) charts

indicates that this musical worship canon, much like academic curricula, is
authored by song writers who are overwhelmingly male and white. While the
CCLI is not a total representation of all congregational singing, it is perhaps
the only mechanism we have of systematically assessing this area. The system
is also reflective of those reaping the economic and prestigious benefits asso-
ciated with incorporation. While some scholars1 have established that worship
music has the ability to transcend geographical boundaries and connect wor-
shippers to global networks, others such as Evans2 identified its deleterious
impacts in undermining local contributions. Few, however, have examined this
topic from a decolonial perspective.
Black Majority Churches (BMC) signified by their musical practices and
expertise are deemed to be amongst the fastest growing branches of Chris-
tianity in the UK3 and their songwriters and worship leaders are one of the
groups invisible within the CCLI. Using semi constructed interviews with
members of UK BMC churches and representatives from CCLI, this chapter
will explore some of the complexities in regard to decolonising congregational
music in the UK.
Introduction
The summer of 2020 is one that I will never forget. While coming to terms
with the realities of living and working through a global pandemic, trying to
make sense of the fact that a Black or Asian person in Britain was three times
more likely to die from Covid-194 than a white person,5 it was in this milieu
that I saw the murder of George Floyd. I watched, along with millions across
the globe, a white police officer leaning on Floyd’s neck for more than nine
minutes, ignoring his protestations that he could not breathe. The moment was
made more traumatic because of the lockdown, where people were confined to
their homes by state order to slow the spread of the pandemic. Many in the
UK were awoken from a post-racial slumber by the mantra of Black Lives
Matter.6 Indeed, the pandemic and Floyd’s murder capitulated race to the
forefront of the public agenda and highlighted its relationship to racial
206 Pauline Muir
inequality and discrimination. These two events made conversations about
race more legitimate and more urgent.
Mainstream and evangelical churches have, at various points over the last 40
years, grappled with the uncomfortable realities and the legacy of structural
racism in their own backyard;7 however, the George Floyd moment8 set in
motion a number of actions, including reviewing monuments that have a con-
nection to slavery and colonialism,9 setting up a commission on racial justice10
and committing to shortlist minority ethnic candidates for bishop roles.11 In
addition to this, there was a flurry of texts from Black insiders that have fur-
ther energised the debate and raised questions about the dominance of white-
ness and the undermining of blackness in Christian leadership structures and
congregations.12 Adopting an approach from critical race theory in telling their
own stories, these texts emphasise that Christianity and empire are irrevocably
linked and unearths what Reddie describes as
…the fundamental problem with Christianity in Britain… its ethical basis

has been undermined by a deep-seated sense of White exceptionalism that
has its roots in British history…The subterranean notions of White nor-
mality, with its concomitant characteristics of entitlement, privilege and
superiority, is so deep-seated that it permeates all manner of discourse
around Christianity and its associated ethics within the British context.13
Black theologians writing from a British perspective, such as Reddie, Beckford

and Jagessar have long explored the colour-blind approach utilised in mainstream
theologian formation and discourse. However, less attention has been given to
using race as a category to frame and interrogate congregational music in the UK.
In this chapter, I am adding to the conversations about racial politics in the
church by exploring contemporary worship music and its lack of ethnic
representation as demonstrated in the mechanisms that churches use for copy-
right compliance – the Christian Copyright Licensing International (CCLI).
This framework utilised across churches of all shapes and sizes and crossing
the denominational spectrum tells us something about how race is reinforced
and reproduced by institutional frameworks. I have entitled this chapter
‘Decolonising Congregational Music’ because I have identified a similar invisi-
bility of Black and brown contributions in congregational singing as others
have called attention to within curriculum frameworks. I will begin by setting out
some of the background and context for decolonising the curriculum in the UK.
What Does it Mean to Decolonise the Curriculum?

The movement to decolonise the curriculum gathered pace during the George
Floyd moment. However, prior to this,14 students and staff in UK universities
and further afield had engaged in campaigns seeking to address systemic
racism in their places of learning. These campaigns, alongside other interven-
tions, such as ‘Rhodes Must Fall’,15 ‘Why isn’t my Professor Black?’16 and
Decolonising Congregational Music 207
indeed a student occupation at my own university Goldsmiths College,
GARA,17 were seeking to not just adapt and amend curricula and reading
materials to ensure a diversity of voices, but also to disrupt and dismantle
structural arrangements that maintained the continuity of white supremacy.
Needless to say, decolonising the curriculum has engendered vociferous and
polarising debates in the media, online and in academia. Framed as part of ‘the
culture wars’ the movement is critiqued on a number of fronts. The more strident
of detractors see it as a left-wing plot, engaged with actions on a par with the
burning of books by Isis,18 the destruction of architectural monuments by the
Taliban19 or the tactics of Mao’s Red Guard.20 Characterised as the domination
of ‘woke’ politics, cancel culture and a restriction of the free speech of aca-
demics,21 many are concerned by what they perceive to be the move to sacrifice
the world’s greatest thinkers on the altar of political correctness.22 Even scho-
lars from the Global South are critical about virtue signalling from the ‘deco-
lonial bandwagon’ which attempts to engage in ‘decolonisation without
decolonising.’23 This warns that the process can become reductive tokenism
which ignores global structural inequalities resulting in reinforcing current atti-
tudes, highlighting the complex and multi-factorial nature of decolonisation.
Despite the clamorous and sometimes violent encounters, some argue that the
debates about the project have provoked more heat than light.24 Others, how-
ever, see the campaign as a justice issue which seeks to confirm the contributions
others have made to the panoply of knowledge, but also recognise the role that
structures play in reproducing the status quo and the subsequent negative impact
on Black and Asian students’ commitment, sense of belonging and educational
achievement.
The task of decolonising the curriculum is an onerous and complex one.
One of the first steps is for academics to review their reading lists and try to
ensure that they are more reflective of the diverse student populations. How-
ever, it will also call for a rethinking of research methods and epistemologies25
as well as addressing bigger issues such as interrogating structures, pay and
conditions, senior leadership frameworks and reviewing assumptions that
institutions are built on.26 To do the process properly will involve unlearning,
relearning, decentring and recentring, challenging our own and others’ thinking
about structures which have been well established over many years and ingrained
as normative. Decolonisation is a critical process designed to help educators
realign the inequalities of a colonial and imperial past. At the heart of the project
is a clarion call for justice, access and participation. Holmwood states it aptly:
The call to decolonise the university is a call to extend and enact social
justice in education.27
Decolonising Canons: Links Between Education and Congregational
Music
So, what does decolonising the university curriculum have to do with con-
gregational music? Why do I say that congregational music needs to be
208 Pauline Muir
decolonised? In order to answer these questions, it is first important to under-
stand the context of music in congregation settings. The music used in many
congregational settings has undergone a seismic revolution transnationally.
Since the 1960s, there has been a shift to the use of popular sounds and
instrumentation, and many of the songs that originated in Pentecostal and
charismatic congregations have become mainstream. This song repertoire,
more commonly referred to as ‘praise and worship’ or ‘contemporary worship
music’ (CWM), has come to dominate congregational repertoires.28 I have
determined that congregational music needs to be decolonised by highlighting
the lack of racial representation in the CCLI charts.
CCLI – A Natural Monopoly

Christian Copyright Licensing International (CCLI) is a for-profit company
based in Washington, USA. They provide resources and licences to churches,
schools and other organisations relating to the use of Christian music and
media. As churches become more technologically savvy and are engaged in
showing films, streaming services, making podcasts etc. (during the COVID-19
pandemic, these services were required even more urgently), they rely increasingly
on music and media that are under copyright. CCLI exists to help churches navi-
gate the explosive minefield that is copyright. One of their key services is providing
licences for the reproduction of song lyrics. A licence isn’t required to perform
music in a worship setting but is needed for the visual display and reproduction of
lyrics in churches. Economically this ensures that creators are paid for the use of
their work, and morally their work cannot be changed without their permission.29
CCLI stemmed directly from the growth in Praise and Worship music and
its subsequent mass distribution and consumption, which posed problems not
only for congregations but also for songwriters and record labels needing eco-
nomic reimbursement for their labour.30 Prior to this, churches used hymnals
or songbooks and permissions were covered in the purchase of the book. The
subsequent decline in the use of hymn books31 and the advent of the overhead
projector and later data projectors marked the beginning of the new modern
service. Hymns books were inflexible and inaccessible for the non-literate
congregation, and OHPs enabled a more embodied form of worship.32 Many
churches photocopying lyrics and song sheets were unaware of copyright
obligations and unwittingly, in contravention of the law.33 CCLI enabled the
issuing of a single blanket license, thus alleviating the financial and adminis-
trative burden of having to negotiate with individual rights holders.34
The need for copyright in churches was established by Howard
Rachinski, music director for a church in Portland, USA. Rachinski’s
pastor, concerned by a $3.1 million lawsuit that was levelled against the
Archdiocese in Chicago, asked him to ensure that their church was copy-
right compliant.35 Rachinski devised a local framework to assist churches
with their copyright needs. This local framework eventually became CCLI.
It was established in the UK in 1988 and now services more than 250,000
36
churches. This international outlet currently operates in Australia, Canada,
Great Britain, Ireland, New Zealand, South Africa and USA and other coun-
tries. While there are other copyright organisations, CCLI are the biggest and
the most popular in the Christian world and provide a critical and important
service to churches, schools and organisations. However, the nature of their
business model means that CCLI conforms to a ‘natural monopoly’37 and
exists as a powerful entity that determines supply and control of congrega-
tional music, bringing it into the realm of the marketplace.
The Canon of CCLI

The charts that CCLI produces show the most popular congregational songs
within a given national market and represent the canon of Praise and Worship
internationally. According to Kelman,
Rather than just managing and tracking the usage of songs in worship, the
management of rights and the calculation of popularity have both come to
shape the sounds of worship.38
In other words, CCLI not only reflects what churches sing, it also constructs
the canon of praise and worship music. These are the songs that are sung at
festivals, conventions and big Christian gatherings. These are the songs that
are accessible for school assemblies. These are the songs that are heard on the
radio, uploaded on YouTube, and streamed on Spotify with several million
hits. These are the songs that establish the genre. The system is also reflective
of those reaping the economic and prestigious benefits associated with incor-
poration. Much like the secular charts in the music industry, and academic
book lists in higher education, the CCLI chart is a means of identifying trends,
developments and popularity. Popularity in this instance also indicates long-
evity, (again, similar to academic book lists) as songs remain in the CCLI
chart for an average of nine years39 which ensures economic remuneration
for creators who will continue to receive royalties while their material is
being used.
While the CCLI is not a total representation of all congregational singing, it
is currently the only mechanism that academics and researchers40 have for
analysis on praise and worship and systematically assessing this area.
Perusal of CCLI charts indicates that this canon, much like academic curri-
cula, is produced by songwriters who are in the majority, male and white. As a
young person in the 1980s, I grew up with the sounds of Black British gospel
music. While the African American king of Contemporary gospel music André
Crouch41 and prince of the Jesus Movement, Larry Norman,42 formed part of
my musical biography it was the UK boy bands of Paradise and Kainos, and
choirs like the Inspirational Choir and the London Gospel Community Choir
that captivated those aspects of my identity as a Black British Christian. Black
British gospel music and the scene that it represented as a cultural product and
210 Pauline Muir
practice is arguably the most significant cultural artefact to emerge from Black
Majority Churches (BMCs).43 While this industry has proven not to be eco-
nomically sustainable for Black UK gospel musicians,44 and the genre has not
gained mainstream recognition,45 this cultural product birthed from the Afri-
can diaspora has imbibed many of the tropes of the church and has, for a
small minority, provided an economic base in the secular music industry.46
But, perhaps more importantly, this product has radically demonstrated the
wealth of talent and creativity embodied in BMCs. This radical, border cross-
ing, cultural product epitomised the religious yearnings and expectations in
music of mainly Caribbean Christians and made manifest the struggles, joys
and the changing face of UK BMCs. As a young teenager, participation in this
scene enabled a psychological sense of well-being that countered the social
marginalisation that I experienced in society as a Black woman. It allowed me
to simultaneously reject and affirm the theologies and worship practices of
BMCs whilst giving me sonic borders of belonging. While much of the material
was not explicitly political, the knowledge that it came from communities with
which I was familiar gave me a sense of ownership and pride. I was dismayed
as an adult to discover that the legacy of this tradition was largely invisible
within the systems that frame congregational music in the UK.
Table 10.1 shows a table of the top ten worship choruses in the CCLI chart on
16 August 2021 and demonstrates this invisibility. Ninety percent of the song-
writers listed above are Caucasian men. The dominant group are Hillsong, the
Australian group, arguably one of the most successful elements of the global
Praise and Worship output, and the rest are US and UK-based white songwriters.
There has, however, been a disruption to the charts recently with Osinachi
Kalu Okoro Egbu, or as she is known by her recording name Sinach, a
Nigerian Praise and worship leader. Her song, ‘Way Maker,’ described as a
Table 10.1 CCLI UK Top 10, 16 August 2021

Song Title Songwriter Origin
1. 10,000 Reasons Jonas Myrin, Matt Redman Sweden/UK
2. In Christ Alone Keith Getty, Stuart Townend UK
3. Cornerstone Edward Mote, Eric Liljero Hillsong, Australia
4. What a Beautiful Name Ben Fielding, Brook Hillsong, Australia
Ligertwood
5. O Praise the Name Benjamin Hastings, Dean Hillsong, Australia
Ussher
6. Here I am to Worship Tim Hughes UK
7. Way Maker Osinachi Kalu Okoro Egbu Nigeria
8. How Great is our God Chris Tomlin, Ed Cash US
9. This is Amazing Grace Jeremy Riddle, Josh Farro US
10. Build My Life Brett Younker, Karl Martin US
47
pandemic and protest anthem first released in 2015, has been a phenomenal
success. It has been translated into over 50 languages, rerecorded by several
different artists and has stayed at the top of the CCLI chart. It also possesses
the unique accolade of being the first song ever to be in the top 10 of the Bill-
board Hot Christian Chart at the same time recorded by two different artists,
Michael W. Smith and the band Leeland.48 Despite the overwhelming success
of the song ‘Way Maker’, Thiessen outlines that many worship leaders and
pastors assumed its authorship was white and male.49
Similarly, Fowler asserts that the song only gained popularity amongst
American evangelicals when it was recorded by white veteran singer/song-
writer Michael W. Smith, suggesting that it would not have gained this status
without this white male exposure.50 At the time of writing, the American
Christian band Leeland’s version of the song is listed as number 1 on the
Spotify/CCLI charts.
Notwithstanding this important and significant disruption, CCLI, although
self-described according to its nomenclature as ‘international,’ does not fulfil
this mandate. This internationalism is determined by its global reach of Africa,
Asia and the multicultural communities served in the USA, Canada and UK are
not represented by the ethnicities of the creatives in its top 100. Van Dyke’s
work on CCLI Africa exploring the company’s strategic architecture and pos-
sibilities for growth presents a wholly apolitical analysis devoid of any under-
standing of how issues of social, cultural and ethnic difference, or inclusion
and equity might impact the current business model.51 Bjorin is more explicit
in addressing the racial dynamic, by stating,
Ethnically, much of the music that falls outside of white evangelical tra-
ditions is not covered by CCLI, and therefore not even eligible for the
list…This creates a fairly white list that perpetuates song writing and
marketing strategies that will continue to target white audiences.52
While this may shed some explanation on the ‘whiteness’ of the list, it suggests
an essentialist approach to music genres and contradicts the notion of ‘inter-
national’ in CCLI’s title.
UK Black Majority Churches
UK Black Majority Churches, like their US counterparts, are signified by their
upbeat and vibrant musical discourse. There are also amongst the fastest-
growing churches in the UK.53 Yet despite this, representations from these
churches are not seen in the systems that denote congregation singing globally.
Notwithstanding the lack of diversity in the CCLI charts, this music was found
to be the preferred repertoire and dominant force in my research into BMCs in
London.54 While some use of material authored by African American song-
writers, such as Kirk Franklin and Israel Houghton, was in evidence, there was
little that registered as Black British authorship, particularly in the main
Sunday morning services55 of both mega and small churches alike. This raises
212 Pauline Muir
questions as to why BMC churches chose not to privilege material written from
within their communities or indeed why they chose not to engage with the CCLI
process. Some of these challenges will be discussed in the next section.
Findings from the Research

Having identified this preference for chart-topping CCLI songs composed by
predominantly white songwriters in the first part of my research, I was keen to
assess why BMCs had made a deliberate decision to privilege this repertoire.
For this purpose, I interviewed members of the praise and worship teams in
which my research was located, as well as Black and white members from
across the UK Christian music industry.56
Economics
One of the key themes that emerged during the interview process was that of
the economics associated with copyright. As noted previously, the way that
CCLI works is that music publishers register their material, churches purchase
a license based on the size of their congregation, they report the songs that are
sung, and then CCLI ensures that rights owners can monetise their products
and generate global income streams. The system presupposes a market, and a
market assumes economic beneficiaries. The system is designed for the economic
benefits of the collection society and rights holders and, by extension, provides a
service for those requiring copyrighted material. Licensing worship music, whether
in Black or white churches, is not without controversy and brings religious ideas
into contact with hard economic realities. Licensing songs as a perquisite in wor-
ship settings coincided with the growth in contemporary worship music.57
The common response from detractors is that:
Worship songs were given by the Holy Spirit and therefore it was wrong
to require payment of royalties for their use in worship.58
The findings from my research confirmed that the belief systems and practice of
many BMCs determined a disengagement with the licensing process, which has
been a perennial concern over many years.59 Ward, in his seminal text about pro-
cesses of commodification invading the worship arena, reported in 2005 that 90%
of Pentecostal churches60 did not have licenses. Eleven years later, a feature arti-
cle61 written in Keep the Faith magazine (a publication targeted at BMCs) in 2016
acknowledged that this situation was an area of concern to CCLI. This was further
confirmed by a collection of YouTube videos, hosted on their site, including
representations from the Black gospel music scene, such as Denis Wade62 and Noel
Robinson63 encouraging BMCs to register. In my interview with the Customer
Relations Manager for CCLI, the figure of unregistered Pentecostal churches
cited the figure as 80%.64 So, although reduced slightly, this is still one of the
highest figures of all the denominations. Of course, not all Pentecostal churches
are Black, but British BMCs are mostly Pentecostal.
Additionally, one of my respondents, who was a member of the same working
party drawn together to encourage BMCs to register, emphatically stated that
many BMCs ‘steadfastly refused to register.’65 While he was clear that his own
Seventh Day Adventist Church purchased a global license costing in the region of
£30,000 for the churches in the Southern Conference because ‘as stated in the
scriptures,’ it was important to ‘render to Caesar, what is Caesar’s’66 a similar
view shared by Francis who viewed the license as an ‘asset,’ explaining
… [CCLI] licenses, it structures, and it creates opportunities for artists to

be remunerated. It teaches the church that they can’t just carry on and use
people’s property as they feel and that you know, there’s laws that governs
these things, and there’s practices that go into these things and they ought
to work in particular ways that is an adherence to laws.67
There is a recognition of the spiritual and human obligation of the principle of

remuneration of labour but assumes a one size fits all approach. It is important to
note that both responses were from people who had spent many years working as
professionals and were privy to the precarity of the UK gospel music referred to
earlier. In contrast, to these minority voices, however, the majority view from my
Black industry professional respondents was rather different. In my interview
with Lee, he observed from his involvement with the working party, which
included leadership of the largest Black Pentecostal BMCs, that the ministers saw
a direct conflict between the commercial aspects and the work of the Holy
Spirit.68 Awojobi expressed what is viewed as the outrage felt by many BMCs:
…We sing these songs to glorify God, you wrote this song to glorify God,
you gave this song over to the body to move closer to God and you’re
effectively charging me for it!69
Similarly, Nicky Brown, one of the most longstanding UK BMC songwriters,

musician, producer and beneficiary of the system, was also highly critical of it
and was of the view that churches should not ‘pay’ for worship. He pointed
out that as a working musician, he was paid via record sales, and didn’t want
to be paid by congregational worship.
He added another dimension to the debate by pointing out that the impro-
visatory nature of many Black Pentecostal churches militates against a report-
ing system. In his view, many churches
‘…float in and out of songs’ and at the end of the service, ‘you could have
sung 20 songs, and then somebody has to write that down.’70
Indeed, the oral tradition that many BMCs are grounded in cannot be
accounted for:
214 Pauline Muir
Oral traditions that sprout written traditions handle questions of author-
ship and originality differently than long-time written traditions do.71
Respondents felt that there was a difficulty in the reporting system, and many
churches who had licenses failed to report or did not report correctly. Further-
more, there were churches who did not know about or understand the purpose of
licensing music. These views demonstrate the nature of Black congregational
worship and are not dissimilar to academic writers on copyright who see the
systems of monetisation as dichotomous with the creative process.72 Indeed the
‘suspicion’ mooted by some BMC pastors coheres with Lessig, who argues that
copyright benefits the controlling powers and not the creators.73
Race
Another theme that emerged from my interviews was to do with the issue of
‘race.’ Praise and worship in the UK resides in a racial discourse which is deemed
to be white. While a colour-blind approach was adopted, with some of my
respondents insisting that ‘A song did not have a colour,’ others noted that song
selections in BMC churches were informed by racialised thinking, hence privile-
ging songs in the CCLI catalogue.
One respondent noted that in the context of BMC congregational music
repertoire, ‘Everyone wants to do white, don’t they…’74 recognising a racial
binary as white and black, and a deliberate favouring of this material indicat-
ing the popularity of songs in the charts. This was noted by another musician
who had extensive experience of playing in worship and performance bands in
a number of churches across the diversity of black and white denominations
since the early 2000s. In a rather sheepish fashion, he related an insider joke
made by fellow Black musicians in identifying a racial element in con-
temporary worship music.
… Delirious, Matt Redman, Tim Hughes ahm definitely…. we used to call

it whitewash – which was short for white worship.75
Naming these doyens in rather demeaning terms with his less-than-flattering

comment points to a racial recognition and perhaps a suggestion that the
music lacked spiritual depth.76 He also pointed out that in his experience, these
were the names that were the most popular and the ones that churches, both
black and white, wanted to engage with.
Ingalls’ case study helps us to understand the popularity of some of the UK
worship leaders.77 Her research demonstrating the impact that British song-
writers had on US worship and, by extension, the global worship industry
includes these three songwriters identified by my respondent.78 Using data
from the CCLI charts, Ingalls reveals the growth that has taken place in the
sales of material by UK songwriters, identifying that one-third of their material
is sung by approximately 40–80 million US Christians. Prior to the 1990s, the
flows between US and UK were one way. However, following meetings with
white US Christian music executives and UK songwriters, they felt that the
British songs were more ‘authentic,’ enabling a more experiential encounter
with God. The US executives saw the UK as an ‘an ideal and sometimes idea-
lised Christian community’ unsullied by divisions in US society.79 As a result,
they prioritised the marketing of UK songwriters to a much greater extent
resulting in a greater demand amongst the US market. Given the size and the
success of contemporary worship music in North America, this move cata-
pulted some of the popular UK artists in the mainstream of this global indus-
try.80 While Ingalls’ research confirms some of the popular names, or indeed
the canon of the contemporary worship industry, and goes some way to
explaining the global popularity of many in the top 10 of the CCLI charts, it
does not extend to a racial analysis.
Noel Robinson, a British Black worship leader, in an article entitled ‘Does
Worship have a Race Problem?’ directly addresses this:
And so, for many years the Christian Church and worship industry has
not embraced many of the Black worship leaders that have come from the
Black Church experience, whether African or Caribbean. Instead, the
Church and worship industry seem to have perpetuated the division.81
Furthermore, other respondents stated that contemporary (white) churches did

not respect the songs of the Black churches. Both industry insiders and musi-
cians adopted an essentialist approach seeing the problem as an aesthetic one,
arguing that Black music was too complicated, contained too many chords and
didn’t ‘transfer’ well to the average (white) church, which may not have pro-
fessional musicians.
These responses help us to understand how the framework has been estab-
lished. Dixon recognised the homogenisation taking place in BMCs and framed
this direction as a racial construct.
Black people, we’re always accepting of White culture. Do you understand

what I mean? And I think that’s partly because of our historical relation-
ship with White people. But whereas with White people, their relationship
with us has been as one of kind of an oppressor. I know that slavery and
all that’s been abolished and discrimination, but I think that there’s resi-
dues there and there is an element of superiority.82
Dixon here was very explicit about what she sees as a racialised thinking
that exists in churches. Relating to the European enslavement of Africans and
subsequent enslaved colonial heritage, she suggests that there is a normative
assumption and benign acceptance of a type of cultural domination, which is
rationalised on the basis of attracting the indigenous populations and adopting
the repertoire as means of being inclusive.
216 Pauline Muir
When we start negating it because we feel it’s going to bring people in, I
just think we’re denying a part of ourselves.83
Arguably, this is similar to what Beckford refers to as ‘zombie worship’ in

many UK BMCs.84 This deliberately provocative language describes the
zombie as a non-thinking enslaved being in thrall to a colonial Christianity. In
a desire to missionise their white neighbours in service to reverse mission,85
many BMCs have silenced their own cultural voice. Reddie provides a searing
critique of this type of thinking:
Black Christianity in its various guises has been “infected” by the viral
strain of imperial mission Christianity that has exerted a form of cultural
dissonance on the neo-colonial mind of the Black Christian subject in the
UK, to such an extent that many are unable to incorporate their own
material realities and existential needs alongside that of their faith.86 Why
has this been deleted
Conclusion
So why do I suggest that congregational music needs to be decolonised? The
description of CCLI as a ‘shared music library’87 fails to recognise the lack of
diversity or omission of people groups. This library, while shared transna-
tionally in terms of usage, is not shared in terms of authorship, economic
beneficiaries and subsequent prestige and recognition associated with incor-
poration. Furthermore, it frames two distinct populations – those who under-
stand the system, have the administrative wherewithal, can afford and choose
to purchase the license and those professional songwriters and publishers who
chose to sign up to the framework, therefore, predetermining a particular type
of artistic creation. Hence it operates as a system of exclusion.
Congregational music, as represented by the CCLI charts, operates as a site
of whiteness in its manifestation of universality and invisibility regarding issues
of ‘race’. Whiteness reproduces itself as invisible and neutral in a similar way
that CCLI is deemed to be neutral and apolitical. Exploration of the CCLI
through a post-colonial lens enables what Reddie describes as ‘Whiteness
operating as an overarching construct, which assumes a central place in all
epistemological and cultural forms of production.’88
Discussions about copyright invoke ideas about ownership, rights and
property and theft. Invariably these systems are embedded in systems of colo-
nial and imperialist frameworks. Vats89 identifies copyright processes as a
‘racial project that reproduces particular racial orders’ linking ‘race,’ coloni-
ality and knowledge. Indeed, as Seeger states, Western copyright law does not
account for other types of music cultures,90 particularly those that rely on oral
tradition. Furthermore, it frames and codifies the particular type of artist at the
top echelons of the charts as the gold standard. Like academic curricula, it
exists in a framework of regulation for the means of access, distribution and
circulation ensconced within an economic structure. Churches, like academics
and students, look to the system, reproduce the material within their own
frameworks, and so the canon is perpetually reproduced.
My suggestion is not that CCLI have set out to be deliberately exclusive or
racist. Indeed, the rights of remuneration for artists is a laudable cause. Nor is
this an attack on white individuals or personnel. But any system that claims to
be international and or objective but is only reflective of a specific group (be
that ethnicity, gender, ability, or sexuality) is deserving of scrutiny. This is an
attempt to understand why there is a privileging of one demographic and
marginalisation of other groups in a framework which should be a service for
all churches and, therefore, reflective of such. Jennings describes whiteness and
gender aptly:
White self-sufficient masculinity is not first a person or a people, it is a

way of organising life with ideas and forming a person that distorts iden-
tity and strangles the possibilities of dense life together.91
Therefore, decolonising congregational music, like decolonising the curricu-

lum, is a long and complex process. Firstly, it is a call to awareness. This is a
recognition that existing systems may not represent the world as it is, and
notions of neutrality must always be interrogated. This is not merely about
diversifying the CCLI chart, but must include a root and branch critique and a
rethinking of structures that, by default, marginalise and exclude. Secondly,
this is a call to all people engaged in church musicking to consider ways of
how congregational song can be wrestled from its imperial moorings,
democratised and made more accessible and inclusive to ensure that the
songs of every nation and ethnicity can be shared and enjoyed by the
church as a whole.
Notes
1 Miranda Klaver, ‘Worship Music as Aesthetic Domain of Meaning and Bonding:
The Glocal Context of a Dutch Pentecostal Church,’ in The Spirit of Praise: Music
and Worship in Global Pentecostal-Charismatic Christianity, edited by Monique M.
Ingalls and Amos Yong (USA: The Pennsylvania State University, 2015), 97–113.
2 Mark Evans, Open Up the Doors: Music in the Modern Church (London, Oakville:
Equinox, 2006).
3 Adedibu, Babatunde, Coat of Many Colours – The Origin, Growth, Distinctiveness
and Contributions of Black Majority Churches to British Christianity (UK: Wisdom
Summit, 2012).
4 Research indicates that the relationship between ‘race,’ poverty, class and the
negative health impacts of the pandemic on particular communities were undeni-
able. John Solomos, ‘Race and Ethnicity in Pandemic Times,’ Ethnic and Racial
Studies 44, no. 5 (2021): 719–734.
5 Public Health England, ‘Disparities in the risk and outcomes of COVID-19’ (PHE
Publications, 2020), 40.
6 The organisation Black Lives Matter that started in 2013 following the freeing of
George Zimmerman for the killing of Trayvon Martin has become a coalition of
different social and political organisations and a hashtag which have spawned into a
218 Pauline Muir
global social justice movement. Described by one of the founders as …‘an ideological
and political intervention…, this movement has forced professional sectors as diverse
as gardening to dentistry to examine racial representation and inequality in their
midst as well as becoming a fulcrum for campaigns across police brutality and other
societal inequalities.
7 Key reports include Cardinal Hume’s Advisory Group, With You in Spirit? Report
on the Catholic Church’s Commitment to the Black Community (London: The Print
Business, 1986); Archbishop of Canterbury’s Commission on Urban Priority Areas,
Faith in the City (London: Church House Publishing, 1985); The Church’s commis
sion on ‘race.’ Windrush Commitment and Legacy (2000) by the Committee for Min
ority Ethnic Anglican Concerns (unable to locate in bibliography to adjust citation);
Churches’ Commission for Racial Justice, ‘Beneath the Surface Date,’ 2005.
8 I’ve used the word ‘moment’ to indicate that this is a passing episode and will not
remain forever.
9 Harriet Sherwood, ‘Church to consider removing or altering slavery monument,’ The
Guardian, 9 May 2021. https://www.theguardian.com/world/2021/may/09/rem
ove-or-alter-your-slavery-monuments-churches-are-told.
10 ‘From Lament to Action – The Report of the Archbishops’ Anti-Racism Taskforce.
11 Harriet Sherwood, ‘Church of England must shortlist minority ethnic candidates for
bishop roles – report,’ The Guardian, 22 April 2021. https://www.theguardian.com/
uk-news/2021/apr/22/church-of-england-must-shortlist-minority-ethnic-candidates
for-bishop-roles-report.
12 Lindsay’s We Need to Talk about Race was published before Floyd’s murder.
Although critiqued for its similarity to Reni Eddo Lodge’s ‘Why I’m not Longer
Talking to White People about Race’ the book documents the experience of Black
people in white majority churches and pre-empted many important conversations
about race between Black and white Christians. Ben Lindsay, We Need to Talk
About Race: Understanding the Black Experience in White Majority Churches
(London: SPCK, 2019); Lanre Bakare, ‘Publisher accused of “ripping off” best-selling
book on racism,’ The Guardian, 18 July 2019. https://www.theguardian.com/books/
2019/jul/18/publisher-accused-of-ripping-off-best-selling-book-on-racism. France-Wil
liams’ brutally honest and poetic text details structural racism in the Church of
England. A.D. France-Williams, Ghost Ship: Institutional Racism and the Church of
England (London: SCM Press, 2020); McDonald powerful text explores White
supremacist ideology embedded in colonial Christianity and the real-life impacts
through a biographical lens. Chine McDonald, God is Not a White Man: And Other
Revelations (UK: Hodder & Stoughton, 2021).
13 G. Anthony Reddie, ‘Do Black Lives Matter in Post-Brexit Britain Studies,’ Christian
Ethics 32, no. 3 (2019): 398.
14 The decolonising project is not a modern-day phenomena, indeed, many anti racists
educationist in the 80s and 90s addressed the task. Before this many post-colonial
curricula were rewritten following independence recognising the power of episte
mology in the colonial project. Felix, Minto and Judy Friedberg, ‘To decolonise the
curriculum, we have to decolonise ourselves,’ Wonkhe. 9 April 2019. Accessed 7 July
2021 https://wonkhe.com/blogs/to-decolonise-the-curriculum-we-have-to-decoloni
se-ourselves. According to Ngugi the ‘canon and the colonial school went together,
and the school was more powerful because it “bewitches the soul.”’ Ngũgĩ wa
Thiong-o, Something Torn and New: An African Renaissance (New York: BasicCi
vitas Books, 2009), 21.
15 Rhodes Must Fall, Accessed 22 September 2021. https://rmfoxford.wordpress.com/.
16 UCL, ‘Why isn’t my professor black?,’ https://www.ucl.ac.uk/play/ucl-talks/
why-isnt-my-professor-black.
17 In 2019 Goldsmiths Anti-Racist Action (GARA) held a 137 day sit-in at a university
building protesting racial discrimination in the College. University of London
Goldsmiths, ‘Commitments to Goldsmiths Anti-Racist Action,’ 2021. Accessed 21
July 2021 https://www.gold.ac.uk/racial-justice/commitments/.
18 Gerry Kearns, ‘Topple the racists 1: Decolonising the space and the Institutional
Memory of the University,’ Geography 105, no. 3 (2020): 116–125.
19 Anthony Lemon, ‘“Rhodes Must Fall”: The Dangers of Re-writing History,’ The
Round Table 105, no. 2 (2016): 217–219.
20 John Gray, ‘It’s not an exaggeration to compare methods of new work movement to
Mao’s red guards,’ Brinkwire. Accessed 17 February 2021. https://en.brinkwire.com/
news/john-gray-its-not-an-exaggeration-to-compare-methods-of-new-woke-movem
ent-to-maos-red-guards/.
21 John McWhorter, ‘Academics are really, really worried about their Freedom,’ The
Atlantic. 1 September 2020. Accessed 17 February 2021. https://www.theatlantic.com/
ideas/archive/2020/09/academics-are-really-really-worried-about-their-freedom/615724/
22 Michael Buerk, ‘Decolonising the curriculum,’ produced by Dan Tierney, The Moral
Maze (podcast), 14 February 2019.
23 Leon Moosavi, ‘The Decolonial Bandwagon and the Dangers of Intellectual Decolo
nisation,’ International Review of Sociology 30, no. 2 (2020): 334.
24 Robbie Shilliam, ‘Black/Academia’ in Decolonising the University edited by Gurmin
der K. Bhambra, Kerem Niancioglu, Dalia Gebrial (London: Pluto Press, 2018), 59.
25 Linda Tuhiwai Smith, Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peo
ples (London: Zed Books, 1999); Kevin Hylton, ‘Talk the talk, walk the walk:
Defining Critical Race Theory in Research,’ Race, Ethnicity and Education 15, no. 1
(January 2012): 23–41; Shauneen Pete, ‘Meschachakanis: A Coyote Narrative: Deco
lonising Higher Education,’ in Decolonising the University edited by Gurminder K.
Bhambra, Kerem Niancioglu, Dalia Gebrial (London: Pluto Press, 2018).
26 Neema Begum and Rima Saini, ‘Decolonising the Curriculum,’ Political Studies
Review 17, no. 2 (2019): 196–201; Shirley Anne Tate and Paul Bagguley, ‘Building the
anti-racist university: Next Steps,’ Race, Ethnicity and Education 20, no. 3 (2017):
289–299; Jason Arday, Dina Zoe Belluigi, and Dave Thomas, ‘Attempting to break
the chain: reimagining inclusive pedagogy and decolonizing the curriculum within the
academy.’ Educational Philosophy and Theory 53, no. 3 (2021): 298–31.
27 John Holmwood, ‘Race and the Neoliberal University: Lessons from the Public
University,’ in Decolonising the University edited by Gurminder K. Bhambra, Kerem
Niancioglu, and Dalia Gebrial. (London: Pluto Press, 2018), 47.
28 Monique Ingalls, ‘Contemporary Worship Music,’ in The Continuum Encyclopedia
of Popular Music of the World vol. 8 VII-XIII Genres, edited by David Horn
(Bloomsbury Publishing, 2012), 148.
29 CCLI, 2021. Accessed 22 August 2021. http://uk.ccli.com.
30 Pete Ward, Selling Worship: How what we sing has changed the Church (Milton
Keynes: Paternoster, 2005).
31 The late twentieth century saw a move to technological resources that were more
efficient and enabled embodied worship. Hymn and song books were not flexible and
the notated text inaccessible to the non-literate congregation. Dennis Cook, ‘Death
of the Hymnal? Why are Churches Beginning to Phase Out the Use of Hymnals in
Modern Worship,’ Church Music Today. 24 May 2011. Accessed 11 December 2021.
https://churchmusictoday.wordpress.com/2011/05/24/death-of-the-hymnal-why-a
re-churches-beginning-to-phase-out-the-use-of-hymnals-in-modern-worship/?blog
sub=confirming#subscribe-blog; Ward, Selling Worship, 82.
32 Dennis Cook, ‘Death of the Hymnal?’; Ward, Selling Worship, 82.
33 Dick Weissman, Understanding the Music Business (Boston: Prentice Hall, 2010).
34 Ari Y. Kelman, Shout to the Lord: Making Worship Music in Evangelical America
(New York: New York University Press, 2018).
35 Howard Rachinski, NAMM, 27 April 2006. Accessed 22 August 2021. Namm.org/
library/oral-history/howard-rachinski.
220 Pauline Muir
36 CCLI.
37 Christian Handke and Ruth Towse, ‘Economics of Copyright Collection Societies,’
International Review of Intellectual Property and Competition Law 38, no. 8 (2007):
937–957.
38 Kelman, Shout to the Lord, 148.
39 R.M. Sigler, ‘Not Your Mother’s Contemporary Worship: Exploring CCLI’s Top 25
List for Changes in Evangelical Contemporary Worship,’ Worship 87, no. 5 (2013):
445–462.
40 Sigler, ‘Not Your Mother’s Contemporary Worship’; Robert Woods and Brian
Walrath, eds., The Message in the Music: Studying Contemporary Praise & Worship
(Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2007); Monique Ingalls, ‘Transnational Connections,
Musical Meaning, and the 1990s “British Invasion” of North American Evangelical
Worship Music,’ in The Oxford Handbook of Music and World Christianities edited
by Suzel Ana Reily and Jonathan M. Dueck (New York: Oxford University Press,
2016); Daniel Thornton, ‘Apocalypse and Authenticity It’s the end of the world as we
know it: How authenticity and eschatology cohere in Contemporary congregational
Songs,’ paper presented at the International Conference of the Theology, Religion and
Popular Culture Network Conference, 11–13 July 2017.
41 André Crouch (1942–2015) known as the Godfather of gospel music was an African-
American gospel artist and pastor. He was famous for his fusion of popular styles
with traditional gospel. Bil Carpenter, Uncloudy Days: The Gospel Music Encyclo
pedia (San Francisco: Backbeat Books, 2005), 107. Although critiqued for his ‘bland
and superficial music’ he regularly toured the UK and had an enormous impact on
the Black British gospel scene. Viv Broughton, Black Gospel: An Illustrated History
of the Gospel Sound (Dorset: Blandford Press, 1985), 117.
42 Larry Norman (1947–2008) was a white singer and songwriter most famously known
for his anthem ‘Why should the Devil have all the good Music?’
43 BMCs is a contested term and churches are not homogenous neither do they reside in
a singular denomination framework. Arlington Trotman, ‘Black, Black or What?’ in
Let’s Praise Him Again edited by Joel Edwards (Eastbourne: Kingsway Publications,
1992), 12–35. I have used the term to denote those independent institutions distinct
from mainline denominational bodies such as Church of England, Catholic or
Methodist who have a majority Caribbean or African congregation and the same
leadership. Many churches that identify as Black-led are historically and adminis
tratively tied to white parent churches in the USA. R. David Muir, ‘Black Theology,
Pentecostalism and Racial Struggles in the Church of God’ (PhD thesis, King’s Col
lege University of London, 2004).
44 Andrew Encinas, ‘UK Black Christian Music in the 21st Century: An Invisible Con
cept’ (MBA thesis, Trinity Saint David University of Wales, 2011).
45 Tom Pakinkis, ‘Songs of Praise,’ Music Week. 22 March 2013.
46 Some members of BMCs who learnt their craft in church have gone on to work
successfully as session musicians in the secular music industry. See: Pauline E. Muir,
‘Place, People and Pentecostal Habitus,’ in 21st Century Black British Music edited
by Monique Charles and Mary Gani, (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2022).
47 Megan Fowler, ‘How “Way Maker” Topped the US Worship Charts from Nigeria,’
Christianity Today, 12 June 2020. https://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2020/june
web-only/way-maker-worship-song-sinach-leeland-michael-w-smith.html.
48 Jim Asker, ‘There’s a Second Version of “Waymaker” in the Hot Christian Songs
Top 10 & That’s a First for the Chart,’ Billboard, 9 April 2020. Accessed 11 Sep
tember 2021. https://www.billboard.com/articles/business/chart-beat/9355495/leela
nd-michael-w-smith-waymaker-hot-christian-songs-chart.
49 Anneli Loepp Thiessen, ‘The Overlooked Authorship of Way Maker,’ 2020. Accessed
20 July 2021. https://congregationalsong.org/the-overlooked-authorship-of-way-ma
ker/.
50 Megan Fowler, ‘How “Way Maker” Topped the US Worship Charts from
Nigeria.’
51 Annami Van Dyke, ‘An assessment of the strategic architecture of an international
music licensing company’ (MBA thesis, Stellenbosch University, 2012).
52 David Bjorlin, ‘Consumerism and Congregational Song,’ Congregational Song, 2019.
Accessed 9 September 2019. https://congregationalsong.org/consumerism-and-con
gregational-song/.
53 Babatunde Adedibu, Coat of Many Colours – The Origin, Growth, Distinctiveness
and Contributions of Black Majority Churches to British Christianity (UK: Wisdom
Summit, 2012).
54 Pauline E. Muir, ‘Sounds Mega: Music Discourse of Black Majority Churches in
London’ (PhD thesis, University of London, 2018).
55 The research findings identified that songs written by Caribbean and African song
writers were used in baptismal services and smaller midweek meetings. Muir,
‘Sounds Mega,’ 183.
56 See brief bios of interviewees in the appendix.
57 Pollard, When the church becomes your party.
58 Ward, Selling Worship, 84.
59 Muir, ‘Sounds Mega.’
60 A breakdown between white and Black Pentecostal churches was not provided.
61 CCLI, ‘Why Copyright Matters,’ Keep the Faith, no. 98, 12 September 2016.
62 Denis Wade is Senior Minister at Micah Ministries and former member of UK Black
gospel group The Wades.
63 Noel Robinson Gospel Musician/Worship Leader signed to Integrity Music.
64 Chris Williams, interview by author, 16 November 2016.
65 Paul Lee, interview by author, 4 October 2016.
67 Roy Francis, interview by author, 19 November 2016.
69 Yinka Owojobi, interview by author, 5 October 2016.
70 Nicky Brown, interview by author, 11 January 2017.
71 Siva Vaidhyanathan, Copyrights and Copywrongs: The Rise of Intellectual Property
and How it Threatens Creativity (New York: New York University Press, 2001), 371.
72 Paul Rutter, The Music Industry Handbook (London: Routledge, 2011), 70.
73 Leisseg cited in Simon Frith and Lee Marshall, Music and Copyright. 2nd edition
(Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2005).
74 Marcia Dixon, interview by author, 20 November 2014.
75 Anonymous, interview by author, 2016.
76 Some scholars have been critical of CWM highlighting a lack of depth pertaining to
its theological content and depleted Christology. They argue that the material lacks
the ability to appropriately nurture Christian commitment or communicate sound
Christian doctrine. Andrew Goodliff, ‘“It’s All about Jesus” a critical analysis of the
ways in which the songs of four contemporary worship Christian songwriters can
lead to an impoverished Christology,’ Evangelical Quarterly: An International
Review of Bible and Theology 81, no.3 (2009): 254–268; Marva J. Dawn, Reaching
Out Without Dumbing Down: A Theology of Worship for the Turn-of-the-Century
Culture (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 1995).
77 Ingalls, ‘Transnational Connections, Musical Meaning, and the 1990s “British Inva
sion” of North American Evangelical Worship Music.’
78 Martin Smith is the lead singer for Delirious.
79 Ingalls, ‘Transnational Connections, Musical Meaning, and the 1990s “British Inva
sion” of North American Evangelical Worship Music,’ 432.
80 Ingalls, ‘Transnational Connections, Musical Meaning, and the 1990s ‘British Inva
sion’ of North American Evangelical Worship Music.’
222 Pauline Muir
81 Borlase, Craig. ‘The Friday pickle – does worship have a race problem?’ We are
Worship by Integrity Music. 10 June 2014. https://www.weareworship.com/lea
rning/articles/the-friday-pickle-does-worship-have-a-race-problem/.
84 Robert Beckford, Documentary as Exorcism – Resisting the Bewitchment of Colonial
Christianity (London: Bloomsbury, 2014).
85 Reverse mission refers to the practice of sending missionaries from Africa to evan
gelise ‘dark’ Europe and North America. See: Afe Adogame, The African Christian
Diaspora: New Currents and Emerging Trends in World Christianity (London:
Bloomsbury, 2013), 169.
86 G. Anthony Reddie, ‘Christianity Tu’N Mi Fool: Deconstructing Confessional Black
Christian Faith in Postcolonial Britain,’ Black Theology 10, no.1 (2012): 53.
87 Gesa F. Hartje, ‘Keeping in Tune with the Times – Praise & Worship Music as
Today’s Evangelical Hymnody in North America,’ Dialog: A Journal of Theology
48, no. 4 (Winter 2009): 364–373.
88 Reddie, G. Anthony. ‘Do Black Lives Matter in Post-Brexit Britain Studies,’ Chris
tian Ethics 32, no. 3 (2019): 685.
89 Vats, Anjali. The Color of Creatorship: Intellectual Property and the Making of
Americans (Stanford; Stanford University Press, 2020).
90 Seeger, Anthony. ‘Traditional Music Ownership in a Commodified World.’ In Music
and Copyright edited by Frith Simon and Lee Marshall (New York: Routledge, 2018).
91 Willie James Jennings, After Whiteness: An Education in Belonging (Grand Rapids,
Michigan: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2020), 9.
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226 Pauline Muir
Appendix A
Interviews
Yinka Owojobi: Founder UK gospel.com, DJ Premier Gospel. 5 October 2016.
Marcia Dixon: Founder of MD PR company supporting BMCs, Black gospel musicians,
former journalist for the Voice newspaper and editor for Keep the Faith magazine.
20 November 2014.
Nicky Brown: Producer, Composer, Musician with over 35 years of professional
experience in secular and gospel BMC settings, former Head of Music at Ruach City
Church. 11 January 2017.
Roy Francis: Former producer of Channel 4’s People Get Ready and BBC Songs of
Praise. Founder Roy Francis Productions: Gospel Artist Development Agency. 19
November 2016.
Paul Lee: Former Director of Music – Seventh Day Adventist (SDA) Church, South
Region and CCLI working party, member of the Kingdom Choir. 4 October 2016.
Noel Robinson: Gospel Musician/Worship Leader signed to Integrity Music. 7 Decem-
ber 2016.
Chris Williams: Head of Customer Relations, CCLI. 16 November 2016.
11 Black British Gospel Music Past,
Present, and Future
Final Reflections from the Editors
Dulcie Dixon McKenzie, Pauline Muir and
Monique M. Ingalls
The title of the introduction, Rivers of Babylon, uses the metaphor of a ‘river’
to conceptualise the diversity of Black British Gospel Music that continues to
evolve as streams of living water in 21st-century Britain and world-wide. In
this final chapter, we each share final reflections of our scholarship, which will
be framed using water’s metaphoric language to help us imagine the future.
First, the use of Babylon metaphorically is worth revisiting. Taken from the
scriptural text in Psalm 137, 1-4:
By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we

remembered Zion. We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst
thereof. For there they that carried us away captive required of us a
song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one
of the songs of Zion. How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange
land?1
Here we have the image of a group of people sitting, weeping, and remem-
bering. They are located in a place captivated by a system that has caused
generational harm, yet they are required to sing. The people are reminiscing on
the past, yet we know from other biblical passages that they did not lose hope
for their future as a people. Indeed, many generations later, many of them
returned to Zion, though transformed through their sojourn in exile. In the
time in between their exile and return, they did indeed learn to sing the Lord’s
song in a strange land.
That in-between time, which finds the people of Zion living in the tension
between the pain of the ‘now’ and the joy of the ‘not yet,’ is the moment that
this book has chronicled. Among people of the African diaspora in Britain, the
Lord’s song has taken many forms, from the soulful melodies of singers to the
harmonies of choirs, and to the rhymes and rhythms of grime MCs. Though
nurtured within the Black Majority Church, it has never been contained within
its walls. Black British Gospel Music continually spills out into the high streets,
schools, and suburbs, and BBGM does not return to sacred spaces unchanged.
Through its sojourns, the music is constantly renewed and transformed, at
times subtly and at other times radically.
228 Dulcie Dixon McKenzie, Pauline Muir, and Monique M. Ingalls
In this final chapter, each of us as editors reflect on key themes of this
volume, drawing together threads of the discussion and pointing the way for-
ward for further examination. In doing so, we embody a stance that we hope
will be adopted by scholars of BBGM moving forward: that of collaboration
across, and in full view of difference among scholars who embody a variety of
backgrounds and perspectives.
Paddling Uncharted Waters of Black British Gospel Music: Towards a

Framework for Historical Enquiries by Dulcie Dixon McKenzie
At the heart of my academic interest in BBGM are questions about its con-
ception and the historical influences on its development as a religious musical
tradition. It is striking that in the years of its development in British society,
BBGM has evolved mostly ignored by the academy. As such, to date, BBGM
has no history. Put another way, if history is a systematic study of the past
narrated by the historian,2 then the history of BBGM does not yet exist. Intel-
lectually, there are gaps in knowledge concerning its growth. In the meantime,
two predicaments are occurring. Increasingly, popular writings are filling the
academic gap of systematic studies of BBGM, and historical experiences of
Black gospel music in America are routinely aligned to the evolution of BBGM,
most noticeably in media and literature commentaries. As such, presently, the
history of BBGM is a conjecture. However, I am hopeful about emerging aca-
demic studies seeking to pay more attention to the historical development of
BBGM beyond its sonic, lyrical, and commercial advances.
In this final reflection, I am suggesting that the lack of scholarship concern-
ing the historical development of BBGM is a most urgent situation to address.
More knowledge about its evolution as a religious phenomenon would clarify
details about its roots and routes, and address issues of identity and heritage
for BBGM practitioners and contributors. An agreed ‘history’ of BBGM still
needs to be established to address the assumptions in the historical repre-
sentation of BBGM so far. In the meantime, noticeably, there is an increasing
inclination towards critiquing the contemporary expression of BBGM.3 As an
example, assertions for decolonising its songs are gaining traction. However,
critical analysis of contemporary BBGM occurs without giving deep treatment
to its origins and complex past. Suppose the critique of contemporary BBGM
is to be constructive, in that case, there needs to be a deeper awareness of how
BBGM is a continuum of a faith community that is not homogenous; other-
wise, the evaluation unwittingly positions BBGM as ‘isolated and static.’4 Put
differently, BBGM has not evolved in a vacuum; socio-historical and religio-
cultural factors have shaped it as a religious musical tradition within the Afri-
can diaspora. Such complexities must be remembered for critical considera-
tions. Thus, more systematic historical studies of BBGM could help to
contextualise its contemporary evolution as a religious musical tradition in
Britain that now has a place on a global stage and is constantly evolving. For
instance, it is expressed in various places, and although it has a Black heritage,
Black British Gospel Music Past, Present, and Future 229
BBGM is evolving as a multi-ethnic, multi-cultural, and multi-genre religious
musical expression illustrated well in this volume.
Whilst expecting future historical investigations of BBGM to follow, it
means that historians will venture uncharted waters. Here, I invite us to
metaphorically embark on an imaginary journey to navigate historical ‘waters’
to probe the past. Let us imagine the historian in a boat ‘paddling’ along calm
waters using ‘oars’ to keep the boat in motion. The task is to fish for infor-
mation using ‘baits’ to exhume hidden treasures lying dormant at the bottom
of deep waters. The waters hold fishes that can be caught cursorily. However,
suppose the historian in the boat is keen to discover a broader range of fish; in
that case, they will need to use more ‘baits’ to acquire additional fish. In what
follows, I will proffer a conceptual framework to encourage historical thinking
for metaphorically excavating historic treasures lying deep in the waters of the
past, explanatory to the development of BBGM. My use of a conceptual fra-
mework does not include practical methodological guidance. Instead, it offers
cursors towards the pursuit of tracing socio-historical and religio-cultural
details connected to the pilgrimage of BBGM. What’s more, it is a conceptual
outline for shaping ideas in the search for gathering more exhaustive con-
textual information about the past, yet to be explored. Using water, the meta-
phor of wellsprings, next, I will reflect on the benefits of having a
multidisciplinary approach to investigating the historical development of BBGM.
Multidisciplinary Approach: Wellsprings

In line with the introductory chapter of this book, Rivers of Babylon, I will use
a metaphoric image of wellsprings to represent academic disciplines. Employ-
ing wellsprings as a metaphor to encourage historical thinking about the past
is a way to assist the historian to imagine using various academic disciplines to
navigate the flow of past events and leaks that spill into other frontiers. Thus,
a range of academic disciplines could be imagined as wellsprings to explore as
a way to broaden the flow of information connected to a Black religious past
that requires critical enquiry. Accordingly, like wellsprings that flow and leaks
that spill into borderlines, the probing of past activities could be interpreted
within disciplines like wellsprings that also outflow into other areas of acade-
mia. Having a multidisciplinary approach towards historical enquiries is a way
of welcoming multiple streams to flow into different wellsprings to enrich ways
of investigating the past. As such, any study of Black gospel music requires
multiple lenses and methodological clarity for borrowing insights from pre-
served works within the scholarship of the African diaspora. For example,
Caribbean, African, and African American historical studies.
Generationally, a specific area of importance is the social and religious con-
ditions of the forerunners of BBGM. Specifically, African Caribbean men and
women travelled from the Caribbean and migrated to Britain as ‘British sub-
jects.’ Now well-known as the ‘Windrush generation’, the post-war years in
Britain constitute a significant part of Black British history and heritage.
Accordingly, understanding connections with post-war Britain and an African
Caribbean colonial past shaped by Euro-British and Euro-American social and
religious standards, will help the historian to make sense of Black religiosity’s
development in the Caribbean and Britain. With this in mind, the historical
actors in the theatre of BBGM history are those who have lived through the
post-war years and hold vital clues to people, events, and occurrences of the
past. As time passes, however, opportunities to effectively gather data from an
ageing generation diminishes. For that reason, through my academic work, I
hope to galvanise more interest in systematic historical studies to uncover
important details about the past at risk of being lost to the forebears gradually
passing each year and becoming ancestors. In short, historical discoveries of
BBGM using multiple interpretative lenses pertinent to Black British history as
part of the African diaspora will be helpful.
Black gospel music is a global phenomenon. As such, BBGM needs to be
recognised for its contribution to the worldwide spread of Black religious
music,5 which is intertwined with the reality of movement and migration of
people.6 Interrogating the past that focuses on people of the African dia-
spora is therefore essential for recovering information about people who
have been displaced and have generational profiles of movement and
migration. As such, historical investigations through a range of subject areas
could be advantageous for accessing historical interpretations crucial to
understanding social and religious factors affecting the lives of Black Britons
and their ancestors. Close interaction with a range of subjects is likely to be
beneficial. For example, sociological, anthropological, ethnomusicological, and
religious studies in African history, Caribbean history, African American his-
tory, and Black British history are likely to consolidate a broader under-
standing of a Black British religious musical past. It will also bring deeper
historical insights concerning the evolution of BBGM as a religious musical
tradition with multiple historical influences. Therefore, using a range of aca-
demic disciplines will be essential for examining the socio-historical and reli-
gio-cultural experiences of Black lives and their expression of music. Each
academic area could help to address major historical events, institutions,
situations, and traditions for exploring the past.
Six Core Concepts as ‘Oars’ for Paddling Uncharted Waters

To investigate the history of BBGM, historical enquires of events, people, and
occurrences will be vital. As such, here I will give a brief outline of a fra-
mework for historical thinking that revolves around six concepts created by
history educators that I believe could be instrumental as an initial frame-
work for recovering important information about the development of
BBGM. Authors of the six concepts, Peter Seixas and Tom Morton,7
acknowledge that their model of historical thinking appropriates the work
of historians. Similarly, I am encouraging the use of the six concepts frame-
work to establish relevant questions around finding and using important
sources, for pursuing the task of thinking and writing about the early beginnings
of BBGM could prove helpful. The six concepts are 1) historical significance, 2)
primary source evidence, 3) cause and consequence, 4) historical perspective-
taking, 5) continuity and change and 6) ethical dimension of history.
Here, I will briefly mention each concept. Firstly, historical significance
refers to deciding what is significant about the past that could be designated as
essential to investigate. The historical landscape to decide on significance is
vast; therefore, it will never be possible to research everything in the past. For
that reason, it would be necessary to make decisions about investigating the
past based on importance. Regarding BBGM, there are questions about who
might be people of historical significance to explore. Also, queries about pro-
ceedings of historical importance that have affected the turn of events. Addi-
tionally, occurrences of the past are considered to be significant turning
points. The second concept is the use of primary source evidence, which refers to
questions around what first-hand sources could be used to determine historical
data concerning the development of BBGM. The third concept is continuity and
change, which involves the complex task of examining aspects of the past that
are associated with change over time. This concept asks questions about what is
different now from what existed before.
The fourth concept is cause and consequence. Historical change is linked to
continuity and change driven by multiple causes (reasons) that can vary in
influence. These influences, such as the historical actors and conditions, are
related to social, economic, and cultural changes. For this concept, historians
could ask questions about what changed in the situation, and people – what
they did/how they reacted to a condition or an occurrence that impacted
others. The fifth concept is historical perspective-taking (Empathy). This con-
cept involves understanding the context of the past for the historical actors
and their perspectives to infer what they might have felt and thought at the
time. This idea is potentially awkward or complicated for the historian in
the present, due to using one’s present-day worldview and values to
understand a past time. This concept requires the imagination of a time
and place different from now. Finally, the ethical dimension of history
directs the historian to ethical awareness to make judgements about actors
and events of the past.
I have merely mentioned the six concepts as an introduction to areas that
could be identified as helpful to emerging historical studies of BBGM. More
examples of how the six concepts can be applied are addressed elsewhere.8 My
hope for the scholarship of BBGM is that there will be a greater urgency in the
academy to investigate the historical development of BBGM to enhance con-
temporary discourses of BBGM.
Conclusion
My interest in the history of BBGM continues to be stimulated every day. As a
former radio presenter and producer of a Black gospel music radio programme
and commentator, during my many years of media work there was a dearth of
resources to access concerning BBGM. As I embarked on researching the
history of BBGM, the gap of knowledge in the academy was apparent. For
that reason, it is understandable that for a long time there was a need to
‘borrow’ aspects of the historical narrative of African American gospel
music to explain the rise of BBGM. For example, starting the history of
BBGM with the birth of spirituals and celebrating inspirational historical
figures. However, as this book attests, scholars are now beginning to
engage seriously and critically with BBGM. The collection of voices are
demonstrating that BBGM is a subject deserving of sustained academic
attention. The historical development of BBGM, however, remains an area
of deficiency.
Based on the many ways that the development of BBGM could be cri-
tiqued, such as sociological, anthropological, postcolonial, musicological,
and theological, it would not be correct to reduce the beginnings of BBGM
to a single event, occurrence, or church denomination. Various disciplines,
therefore, from academic streams should be employed to show that multiple
disciplines could explain the contrasting matters significant to its birth.
Ascertaining historical details about BBGM will require interpretations con-
sistent with studies in various fields centring on Black lives in Britain. For
that reason, studies in the areas of Black British history, Black church his-
tory, and Black theological studies in Britain, for example, are suggested
wellsprings to enhance a greater understanding of how BBGM has advanced
as a dynamic religious art form of Black music in Britain. A multi-
disciplinary approach is therefore necessary to determine more details about
the socio-historical and religio-cultural influences that have facilitated its
growth.
Rising Tides within the Global Religious Ecosystem:

Additional Transnational Frameworks
by Monique M.Ingalls
Near the end of this book’s introduction, my co-authors and I describe Black
British Gospel Music as a tidal river,
whose water is constantly flowing out and back in Black British Gospel
Music pours out from Black Majority Churches into multicultural chur-
ches and community choirs, and it often flows back to these ecclesial
spaces intermingled with ‘secular’ popular music.
(p. II)
Continuing the tidal metaphor, those of us living in the first quarter of the
twenty-first century have become increasingly aware of the densely inter-
connected global ecosystem that we inhabit, where tidal currents in one part of
the globe are affected by weather patterns in another. In the same way that
global climate change affects the flow of local rivers, powerful global and
transnational currents are altering the conditions in which people create,
perform and listen to Black British Gospel Music.
To take account of these far-reaching currents, it is thus imperative that
BBGM scholars integrate frames of reference that extend beyond locality,
region, and nation. Throughout this volume, the volume editors and con-
tributors have invoked and applied a number of these transnational frames,
including the Black Atlantic, African diaspora, postcoloniality, and secular-
ism/post-secularism. Many chapters of this volume have noted that BBGM
is in constant conversation with areas outside of Christianity and organised
religion, and that studies of BBGM can contribute valuably to ongoing
work in popular music studies, Black British studies, and postcolonial stu-
dies, to name just a few. In addition to the valuable frames and areas
already invoked, I would like to propose two additional frameworks, both
stemming from contemporary religious and theological studies, as produc-
tive dialogue partners for further work on BBGM.
BBGM and Global Pentecostalism

Because of its worldwide spread and remarkable growth to over half a billion
adherents in less than 100 years, scholars from a variety of disciplines have
examined various facets of Pentecostalism.9 Despite the centrality of music to
Pentecostal spirituality, for many decades it was at the margins of scholar-
ship on the movement. After years of inattention, there is now a burgeon-
ing body of scholarship on Pentecostal music-making in the global
perspective. Over the past decade, academic scholarship has finally begun to
acknowledge the pride of place that musical expression has in global Pen-
tecostalism. Increasingly diverse case studies have probed the place of music
in Pentecostal liturgy, theology, social action, among other topics.10 Much
of this work attempts to make sense of the ways music allows Pentecostal
Christians to negotiate their identities vis-à-vis local, national, and transna-
tional cultural currents.
There are as yet few scholarly works examining British Pentecostal
music-making,11 despite the historical and continued importance of Pente-
costal Black Majority Churches to the creation of Black British Gospel
Music and to the British ‘secular’ popular music industry more generally.
Additional academic work on British Pentecostal music is needed to fill this
noticeable gap. Because of the dense interconnections among Black British
Pentecostal communities and other African diasporic and ecclesial networks
around the world, scholarship on the music of British Pentecostals can be
placed into productive dialogue with the growing number of global case stu-
dies of Pentecostal music-making. In using global studies as dialogue partners,
BBGM scholars can point to the ways that music parallels trends in other
Pentecostal-charismatic communities, as well as noting circumstances and
challenges that are unique to the British context.
BBGM and World Christianity
Expanding outwards from Pentecostalism, studies of BBGM could also pro-
ductively contribute to many facets of the academic discourse on World
Christianity. In their introduction to the book Relocating World Christianity:
Interdisciplinary Studies in Universal and Local Expressions of the Christian
Faith, Joel Cabrita and David Maxwell note that ‘World Christianity’ is not a
historical or geographical given, but rather is an interpretive frame constructed
and negotiated by a particular subset of religion scholars, by Christians, and
by those who claim both affiliations. They write that, within the field of World
Christianity,
Non-Western forms of Christianity are no longer viewed as derivative of,

or dependent on, prior – both chronologically and conceptually – expres-
sions of Western Christianity. Instead of being seen as peripheral to the
main narrative of the Christian faith, the shift to World Christianity has
allowed scholars to view Christianity in Africa, Asia, the Pacific and Latin
America as stories with their own integrity and their own centres of
gravity; constitutive of unique trajectories of the Christian faith… In this
way, the adoption of World Christianity as an analytical framework has
facilitated a valuable move away from viewing non-Western Christians as
merely an extension of ‘missionary history’, seeing them instead as an
important expression of the Christian faith in its own right.12
Though there remains lively debate about the nature and definition of this
frame, scholars share the central concern of how to represent, on the one hand,
the wide diversity, and on the other, the aspirational unity, among Christian
communities worldwide. The study of Black British Gospel Music could aid
in efforts called for by Cabrita and Maxwell to deepen the scholarly
understanding of transnational connections among Christian communities
and to challenge binaries between ‘Western’ and ‘non-Western’ Christian
expressions.
One particularly promising avenue for contribution to scholarship in
World Christianity relates to redressing the gender imbalance within scho-
larly accounts. Dana L. Robert famously referred to World Christianity as a
‘women’s movement,’ noting that ‘even though men are typically the
formal, ordained religious leaders and theologians, women constitute the
majority of active participants.’13 Robert advocates for centring women’s
accounts and women’s actions in the practices that comprise and impel the
spread of Christianity.14 Many chapters in this volume centre women’s
voices as both practitioners and scholars, suggesting that this is a fruitful
area for further exploration. Future academic work on BBGM could engage
with Robert’s and others’ work on women within global Christian com-
munities to theorise and contextualise women’s defining role in creating and
influencing the course of BBGM.
Tributaries of Hope: Making Black Lives Matter within Congregational
Music by Pauline Muir
At the time of this writing in 2022, two years after the murder of George
Floyd, much of the furore surrounding his death has dissipated. While this
incident placed the topic of race on the global agenda for a season, the ques-
tion remains as to whether this leads to sustained political awareness.15 Indeed,
many others from oppressed groups have been killed in similar circumstances,
and there has been little global protest.16 Many of the schemes and processes
that were started have died down. Indeed, at the time of writing in the UK, we
have a Tory government cabinet which is deemed to be most diverse in the
history of UK politics,17 with three Black men occupying some of the highest
offices of state. It could appear that the moment of George Floyd has passed,
and the battle for racial equalities is over. So where does this leave my rallying
call to decolonise congregational music? In this brief excerpt, I will be inter-
rogating the question a little further through a Christian lens and suggesting
some practical solutions for church and worship leaders.
The issue remains, post George Floyd, is this a relevant question within the
sacred space? Do Black lives… creatives …music…stories…worshipping tra-
ditions …artistic practices, matter to scholars, congregations, church leaders,
the Christian music industry and the wider society? Does it matter that there
are no songs from Black British songwriters in the CCLI charts of top 100
songs? What do these issues say about diversity and inclusion in the church?18
In the UK context, some worship leaders and scholars are grappling with this
issue19 and have chosen to address by referencing music from other nations.
However, I would suggest that while this could be a partial solution, this also
could be construed as a tokenistic and stereotypical gesture that avoids the
power dynamics and hierarchies of congregational music, positioning Black
and brown bodies as other, to the host congregation. It fails to acknowledge
that Black and brown people are an integral part of UK society with their own
unique artistic creations.
Do these questions bring the sacred realm of congregational music into an
inappropriate conversation with the contaminated world of politics? Christians
are often criticised for their involvement with politics20 or jumping on their
society’s bandwagon in regard to social issues.21 I am reminded of the words
of political theologian Luke Bretherton, who states that ‘the richer our
engagement with ways of understanding the relationship between ecclesial and
political life, the deeper will be our understanding of what it means to be the
church and of the nature of faithful witness.’22 Bretherton suggests that we
cannot wholly live out a truly faithful Christian witness unless or until we
engage with the contemporary political challenges. Indeed, he argues that the
biblical mandate to love our neighbours forces Christians to consider the ways
in which power is shared in our communities and to actively engage with
activities that work to balance inequalities. He affirms the centrality of politics
to everything that we do and think. While Bretherton does not engage directly
with the topic of congregational singing, his insights give us tools to think
through some of the difficult areas on how we might navigate the worship
space.
I acknowledge the act of deconstruction and critiquing this sacred space may
be painful and disconcerting for church and praise and worship leaders. Fur-
thermore, when we talk about congregational worship, there are so many
equitable areas to address – generational differences, access to resources, con-
temporary worship versus hymns, access to musicians, singers, performance
standards, etc. Additionally, equality does not merely extend to ethnicity. But
perhaps by using decolonising as a frame and ethnicity as a starting point, we can
begin the messy task of unpicking a plethora of inequalities, and ascertain sites of
domination, marginalisation and historic silencing which need to be dismantled.
A starting point for church leaders could be to involve a wider group of
people in the decision-making processes. Churches may have a niche group of
specialists who have historically agreed song repertoires; extending the net
could engender greater diversity. Nonetheless, greater representation does not
necessarily address the problem. It must be acknowledged that many margin-
alised people have been colonised in their thinking about God and may also
need to be challenged. This is a long process and shouldn’t just be about
throwing a few hi-life songs into the mix.
Secondly, church leaders could consider whether it is possible to encourage
members of their congregations to write songs that reflect their stories and
concerns. Again, this could be a long-term process if there are no apparent
songwriters in the congregation. Thirdly, it might be possible to involve dif-
ferent community groups or other churches with a different ethnic mix to your
own church. Worship teams from different churches could come together to
share material and learn from one another. Additionally, churches may need to
consider how to engage with CCLI and talk about broader issues pertaining to
copyright. And for those individuals whose work involves Christian copyright
management, I would issue a call to action, to address whether the system be
made more equitable?
Decolonising worship is more than diversifying the songs that we sing. It is a
root and branch reform of the whole system of congregational singing. As
suggested by Ingalls, our practices should be a ‘blueprint for social relation-
ships on earth.’23 It is about demonstrating a model of equity, something like
the picture that we see in Revelation 7:
I looked again. I saw a huge crowd, too huge to count. Everyone was
there – all nations and tribes, all races and languages. And they were
standing dressed in white robes and waving palm branches, standing
before the Throne and the Lamb heartily singing: Salvation to our God on
his Throne! Salvation to the Lamb!24
I wonder what this sounds like. It says all nations and tribes, all races and
languages – so I imagine it is a sound and vision that encompasses difference –
where no one is undermined, marginalised or overlooked, where all are wel-
comed, affirmed and celebrated – perhaps this is what we are seeking to do in
Decolonising our Congregational Music and bringing BBGM to the forefront
of our scholarly and academic agendas.
Notes
1 Psalm 137:1–4 (King James Version).
2 John Fea, Why Study History? Reflecting on the Importance of the Past (Grand
Rapid, Michigan: Baker Academic, 2013).
3 Beckford, Robert. Decolonizing Gospel Music: A Black British Revolutionary Praxis
(London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2023).
4 Deidre Helen Crumbley, Saved and Sanctified: The Rise of a Storefront Church in
Great Migration Philadelphia (Miami: University of Florida, 2012), 7.
5 See for example, the first compilation gospel music album on Apple and Spotify
featuring Black gospel music artists in Africa, the UK, and Jamaica. https://music.
apple.com/us/playlist/gospel-heritage/pl.817ab1b5cf754bc69fa8f5c20d297c00.
6 Melvin L. Butler, Island Gospel: Pentecostal Music and Identity in Jamaica and the
United States (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2019).
7 Peter Seixas and Tom Morton, The Big Six: Historical Thinking Concepts (Tor-
onto: Nelson Education, 2013).
8 Dulcie Dixon McKenzie, Black Gospel Music in Britain: Reclaiming Its African
Caribbean Pentecostal Roots (London: Bloomsbury, forthcoming).
9 Pentecostalism has been called the ideal ‘laboratory’ for the study of globalization.
On this topic, see, for instance, Joel Robbins, ‘The Globalization of Pentecostal and
Charismatic Christianity,’ Annual Review of Anthropology 33, no. 1 (2004): 117–
43; Joel Robbins, ‘Pentecostal Networks and the Spirit of Globalization: On the
Social Productivity of Ritual Forms,’ Social Analysis 53, no. 1 (2009): 55–66; Simon
Coleman, The Globalisation of Charismatic Christianity: Spreading the Gospel of
Prosperity (Wipf & Stock, 2000); Simon Coleman, Rosalind I. J. Hackett, and Joel
Robbins, The Anthropology of Global Pentecostalism and Evangelicalism (New
York: NYU Press, 2015); Birgit Meyer, ‘Pentecostalism and Globalization,’ in
Studying Global Pentecostalism: Theories and Methods, ed. Allan Anderson et al.,
The Anthropology of Christianity 10 (Berkeley: University of California Press,
2010), 113–32; Amos Yong, The Spirit Poured out on All Flesh: Pentecostalism and
the Possibility of Global Theology (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2005).
10 See, for instance, Monique M. Ingalls and Amos Yong, eds., The Spirit of Praise:
Music and Worship in Global Pentecostal-Charismatic Christianity, (University
Park, Pennsylvania: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2015); Tanya Riches
and Thomas Wagner, The Hillsong Movement Examined: You Call Me out upon
the Waters (Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan, 2017); Kimberly Jenkins
Marshall, Upward, Not Sunwise: Resonant Rupture in Navaho Neo-Pentecostalism
(Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 2016); Melvin L. Butler, Island Gospel:
Pentecostal Music and Identity in Jamaica and the United States, vol. 3, African
American Music in Global Perspective (Champaign: University of Illinois Press,
2019).
11 For notable exceptions, see Dulcie Dixon McKenzie, ‘The Future of the Past: For-
ging a Historical Context for Black Gospel Music as a Tradition amongst African
Caribbean Pentecostals in Post-War Britain’ (Ph.D. Dissertation, Birmingham, UK,
University of Birmingham, 2014); Pauline E. Muir, ‘Sounds Mega: Musical Dis-
course in Black Majority Churches in London’ (London, UK, University of London,
2018), Matthew Alexander Williams, ‘Sacred-Secular, Gospel-Pop Crossovers:
Secularisation, Music’s Meanings and Black British Heritage’ (Ph.D. Dissertation,
Bristol, UK, University of Bristol, 2022); and Robert Beckford, Decolonizing Gospel
Music: A Black British Revolutionary Praxis (London: Bloomsbury Academic,
forthcoming 2023).
12 Joel Cabrita and David Maxwell, ‘Introduction: Relocating World Christianity,’ in
Relocating World Christianity Interdisciplinary Studies in Universal and Local
Expressions of the Christian Faith (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 3.
13 Dana L. Robert, ‘World Christianity as a Women’s Movement,’ International Bulle
tin of Missionary Research 30, no. 4 (2006): 180–8.
14 It is important to note that womanist scholars and church leaders took up the call to
centre women’s accounts and actions two decades before the publication of Robert’s
influential article. See for instance Delores S. Williams, Sisters in the Wilderness: The
Challenge of Womanist God-talk (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1995), Ste
phanie Y. Mitchem, Introducing Womanist Theology (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis
Books, 2002), and Emilie Townes, ‘Womanist Theology,’ Encyclopedia of Women
and Religion in North America (Bloomington, Indiana: Indiana University Press,
2006).
15 Christopher Barrie, ‘Searching Racism after George Floyd,’ Socius 6 (2020), https://
doi.org/10.1177/2378023120971507.
16 Conrad Landin, ‘Do Romani Lives Matter?’, New Internationalist, 3 February 2022,
https://newint.org/features/2021/12/07/big-story-roma-do-romani-lives-matter.
17 Jasmine Cameron-Chileshe, ‘Liz Truss Praised for Diverse Cabinet,’ Financial
Times, 7 September 2022, https://www.ft.com/content/4aa687f0-fc5a
-4f42-8c47-edb40bca3509.
18 ‘CCLI Top 100® (UK) – PraiseCharts,’ https://www.praisecharts.com/song-lists/ccli
top-100-uk.
19 James R Krabill, ‘Lessons Learned from Mission History in Africa,’ n.d., 3.
20 Heather Tomlinson, ‘Politics in the Church: Row Breaks out over Evangelical
“Elites,”’ Premier Christianity, https://www.premierchristianity.com/news-analysis/p
olitics-in-the-church-row-breaks-out-over-evangelical-elites/5758.article.
21 Anneli Loepp Thiessen, ‘The Overlooked Authorship of Way Maker by Sinach,’
Sing! The Center For Congregational Song, 15 June 2020, https://congregationalsong.
org/the-overlooked-authorship-of-way-maker/.
22 Luke Bretherton, Christ and the Common Life: Political Theology and the Case for
Democracy (Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company,
2019), 64.
23 Monique Marie Ingalls, Singing the Congregation: How Contemporary Worship
Music Forms Evangelical Community (New York, NY: Oxford University Press,
2018), 74.
24 Revelation 7: 9–10 (The Message).
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Riches, Tanya and Thomas Wagner. The Hillsong Movement Examined: You Call Me
out upon the Waters. Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan, 2017.
Robbins, Joel. ‘The Globalization of Pentecostal and Charismatic Christianity.’ Annual
Review of Anthropology 33, no. 1 (2004): 117–143.
Robbins, Joel. ‘Pentecostal Networks and the Spirit of Globalization: On the Social
Productivity of Ritual Forms.’ Social Analysis 53, no. 1 (2009): 55–66.
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Missionary Research 30 no. 4 (2006): 180–188.
Seixas, Peter and Tom Morton. The Big Six: Historical Thinking Concepts. Toronto:
Nelson Education, 2013.
Thiessen, Anneli Loepp. ‘The Overlooked Authorship of Way Maker by Sinach,’ Sing!
The Center For Congregational Song, 15 June2020, https://congregationalsong.org/
the-overlooked-authorship-of-way-maker/.
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Premier Christianity, https://www.premierchristianity.com/news-analysis/poli
tics-in-the-church-row-breaks-out-over-evangelical-elites/5758.article.
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North America. Bloomington, Indiana: Indiana University Press, 2006.
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Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1995.
Williams, Matthew Alexander. ‘Sacred-Secular, Gospel-Pop Crossovers: Secularisation,
Music’s Meanings and Black British Heritage.’ Ph.D. Dissertation, Bristol, UK, Uni-
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Global Theology. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2005.
Afterword
We Need Black Power, Lord! Reflections
on Black British Gospel Music
William Ackah
In the book of Isaiah chapter 37, King Hezekiah facing an impending invasion
from the powerful Assyrian army, cries out to the prophet saying, ‘This day is
a day of distress and rebuke and disgrace, as when children come to the
moment of birth and there is no strength to deliver them.’ He goes on to say,
‘pray for the remnant that survives.’ As I reflect on this ground-breaking col-
lection of essays on Black British gospel music (BBGM), a thought that springs
to mind is, why has it taken so long for such a text to be birthed in Britain?
There has been a Black presence in Britain for over a thousand years.1 Black
communities have been getting married, attending churches and singing here
since the 1700s,2 and over 70 years of dedicated Black Church worship spaces,3
yet it has taken to the 2020s to see the first academic text dedicated to Black
British Gospel Music. The academy, the Churches and wider society need to
critically reflect on why this is the case and what it signals in relation to the
music, the people and platforms that produce it and the communities that
receive or do not receive it! I applaud the effort, celebrate the achievement and
acknowledge the dedication, bravery and vision of the editors and contributors
to this volume who do see the importance and potential of BBGM. I also want
to state loud and clear, echoing Hezekiah, that it is distressing and downright
disgraceful that this music is considered of so little value and esteem that it is
only now being critically assessed in an academic volume.
In this afterword, I want to reflect on why BBGM has not been subject to
much academic scrutiny or community acclaim. Chapters in the volume have
attested to the power dynamics at play for Black musicians and worship lea-
ders trying to carve out a space for themselves in British society. I think power,
and specifically a lack of power, is at the core of the problem concerning the
standing and status of BBGM in British society. To elaborate on the idea of
power and its lack, I want to focus on four explanatory themes. The legacies
of enslavement and colonialism that still bewitch Black British worship.4 The
multicultural post secular-secular dynamics of British public life, which gen-
erates a confined space for a muted gospel sound.5 The power of African
American culture and the contemporary Christian music industry and their
twin constraining influences on BBGM6 and the struggle for global majority
populations living as minorities in Britain to powerfully articulate and share
242 William Ackah
their sound.7 Finally, I will come back to my contention that BBGM lacks
power. The music and, more importantly, the society from which it springs
from specifically needs a dose of twenty-first-century-Black power. A spiritual
impulse and community impetus that reflects and champions the racialised
yearnings of a people dealing with the realities of living in a land that still
considers them strange.
We Are Yet to Overcome

The imprint of enslavement and colonialism still casts a bleak shadow over the
religious worldviews and production that emanates from Black communities in
Britain. From European hymnody that still has a powerful presence in Black
worship spaces to a contemporary deference to white composers and Anglo
sounds, there is the sense that white is right, and that Black should get back!
Europeans are still seen as the repositories of Christian virtue and knowledge.
This deference to whiteness is played out in the Black Christian world in
multiple ways. The volume references when Black choirs are wheeled out to
sing at national commemorations, it is witnessed when Black church leaders
are bequeathed with honours stamped with the badge of Empire, and Black
church music vocalists are used as background noise for secular sounds from
advertisements to entertainment shows.
It is problematic how appreciative Black church communities are of these
meagre, ring-fenced opportunities. Worship leaders, ministers and choir direc-
tors post on social media and in their church circles with pride that they have
sang on TV or at a royal/military occasion. It does not seem to cross their
minds that they have shuffled for their oppressors and appeased white guilt
with their renditions of sorrow songs and tunes of togetherness and harmony.
The Black churches, via its musicians, are sending this Babylonian society a
message. They are signifying that it is fine just to be here to add ‘some colour
to the proceedings.’ They are indicating that our communities are delighted
with our status in Britain. Second-class schooling is fine, Black imprisonment
rates are tolerable, Black inequitable health outcomes are bearable and Black
unemployment rates are survivable. No matter what is going on, whether we
are being gunned down by the police, our mothers are losing their babies or
our elderly are dying unnecessarily from Covid, we are here smiling, swaying
and singing, showing the world what a green and pleasant land England is to
live in! To paraphrase Roberta Flack, we are being killed softly with the
renditions of these songs.
The divorce of the music of the church from the lived experience of many in
the Black community who are fed up, frustrated and angry with racist Britain
accounts in part for why BBGM is not on the radar of more social commen-
tators interested in the lived experience of African descendants in Britain. The
Black Churches, in general, lack the courage to speak truth to power, and in
general, its music is denuded of the power to inspire the community to demand
change.8
Afterword 243
Too Much Mix Up Leads to Mash Up
Black British gospel music, as chapters in the volume outline, is a significant
musical genre.9 My nuanced argument is that much of it is filtered through
many layers of political, economic, cultural, social and religious spheres or
zones of influence. Depending on when and how this filtering takes place has a
profound impact on the effectiveness and reach of the music in the wider
community. In some cases, the filter can be powerful and affirming of Black
culture (Grime see Charles this volume); in others, the filter can mute the
music and its message becomes an irrelevance (see below re England Rugby).
In chapters by Luce and Ingalls,10 it was shown how impactful gospel music
can be in the lives of individuals not connected to church communities via the
influence of community choirs. Also highlighted in chapters by Charles and
Onafuye was the impact of spiritual themes and religious forms in the music of
grime artists. Forms of spirituality filtered their way via the Black church into
wider community spaces, blurring the boundary between the so-called sacred
and the profane. The spirituality emanating from the Black Church is able to
filter these spaces in part due to the fluidity and conviviality of urban space in
multi-cultural Britain.
The permeability of the urban landscape in the schools, clubs, kebabs and
chicken shops and on the streets has enabled African continental second and
third generations to mingle with African Caribbean communities and others.
The rich confluence of influences coming from homes with links to Africa,
Asia, the Caribbean, the Americas and the hybrid musical forms deriving from
these communities find space and place in secular and religious settings and
filter out into wider spaces where White British and other cultural groups also
imbibe the sounds.11 Grime music and community choirs are dynamic ways in
which these spiritual forms have impacted lives. The musical filter has also
been evidenced in other spaces with much more muted outcomes, most notably
at the England Rugby internationals, where the Negro Spiritual swing low
made its way into the English sports singing narrative. It is a filtered rendition
of a deep spirituality that has been denuded of its meaning and power.12 In the
wrong hands, a song signifying a call to freedom and liberation has become an
ode to English sporting nationalism. This speaks to an unpredictability in
relation to who has control and power over Black Christian derived music. In
this case, it is clearly not the Black Church who are controlling how its musical
production is utilised in wider British society.
Hillsong and Kirk Franklin: No British Name in the Street

It is interesting to note that the song adopted by English rugby fans is an
African American negro spiritual and not a Black British gospel original song. I
would posit that eight out of ten Black Christians in Britain would struggle to
name a song composed by a Black British gospel artist, yet those same eight
out of ten would be able to name multiple tunes by African American gospel
244 William Ackah
singers and tunes composed by White Australian, American and British
Christians. In global terms, African Americans face contemporary racial
terror, anti-black discrimination and historic oppression on an unimaginable
scale, yet their musical and cultural talent has transcended geographic
boundaries and exerts a powerful influence on Black communities across the
globe.13 This is particularly evident when it comes to gospel music in Britain.
It has been outlined that most Black British Christian migrants trace their
origins to West Africa or the Caribbean, which both have vibrant and
dynamic musical cultures, yet in Britain, it is US Black gospel music and
White contemporary Christian sounds that still dominate the Black Church
landscape.14 Black British believers are over-borrowing from musical expres
sions derived from other places and spaces, and the power of its own expres
sion, its own voice, which speaks to the specific concerns of its communities
and members through music, is muted or non-existent. The cultural power of
African Americans and the economic and religious institutional power of the
contemporary Christian music industry combine to strangle Black British
gospel musical talent at birth. Where is the power to birth sustainable Black
British gospel music?
Where is the ‘Black’ in Black British Gospel?

The volume rightly points out that the Black churches and Black community
in Britain have immense musical talent.15 The Black churches have produced
countless musicians who nurtured their talent in religious settings but then
spread their wings to earn a sustainable living outside the church or to pro
duce music that would not be deemed acceptable in religious settings. At times
Black Gospel music has erupted into the wider public consciousness. Eternal,
the British R&B group, topped the British singles charts with African Amer
ican gospel star BeBe Winans in 1997 with their inspirational dance fuelled
number ‘I want to be the only one.’ It was a bright light that blazed in the
wider society for a short time, but was never repeated by this group or any
other Black British gospel/soul group. Another example of Black British
gospel inspired genius was in 2002, when multi-vocal artist Cleveland Watkiss
released Victory’s Happy Songbook, an amazing eclectic mix of soul, jazz
with a deliberate gospel-centred focus containing lyrics about the rapture and
the second coming of Christ. It was and is a brilliant unique album, and that
is the key point, unique, it did not lead to a conveyor belt of similar albums
and songs from other artists. In Britain, the odd gospel artist or record flickers
into the wider consciousness, but it does not lead to a sustained long-term
outcome with multiple songs and many artists gaining wider recognition.
What was true in 2002 is still true in 2022, brilliant singers and excellent
musicians creating sounds that rarely escape the confines of a tight Black
Church communal space.
What and where is the distinct sound of Black British gospel? It is not that
Black Britain is without sounds; Lovers Rock, Two-Tone, Garage and Grime
Afterword 245
are some of the genres that stem from these islands, with a discernible sound
and message. Aside from the fact that Black British gospel is about Jesus, it
would be hard to capture what is distinctive about it. Black British gospel
music put simply is eclectic, but not eclectic by design. It has an inherent
instability and changeability in part because its communal voice has limited
power to imprint itself on Britain’s Black communities and wider British
society. Its sound has elements from a range of cultures, its message is gen-
eric.16 There does not appear to be a deep reflexivity concerning the African
diasporic spiritual presence in Britain and what God has called this community
to be and to do to be found in BBGM and the Churches from which it prin-
cipally emanates. Without that reflexivity and consciousness, the music that is
produced is always going to have a formulaic expression to it. It will continue
to lack power to be a source of transformation for communities struggling for
equity and justice in Britain.
It is not only Black British gospel music that has this problem; it is a pro-
found issue for African descendants in Britain more broadly. Our voice flickers
in and out of public consciousness; our sound, our art, our politics, culture and
spirituality rests on inherently unstable ground. It is still over-dependent on
financial, cultural and social support from communities that are not Black and
whose support can be fickle. Much has been made in recent times of the
Windrush generation and the contribution that they have made to British life,
but since 1948 how many comedies, dramas, documentaries have been made
about these communities and this contribution? A few one-off programmes
each decade, but only a handful of series that have lasted beyond one or two
seasons (which is why we still get reruns of Desmonds on TV even though it is
over 40 years old). Even the Black musical genres discussed earlier which have
a distinct Black British imprint have not had a long-term sustainable future.
The fact that Black music, Black history, Black culture and Black contributions
to this society drift in and out of societal consciousness is due to the fact that
our presence is still seen as temporary, our cultures and identities are still seen
as marginal, our concerns over racism not seen as an important British pro-
blem to be addressed but as a Black problem to be placated. As a community,
we have never been fully accepted into the mainstream of British society on
our own terms. Where for example is the Black British equivalent of the
National Opera or National Theatre? Where is the Black Church Museum and
musical Academy? We don’t have long-term stable institutions to support
Black talent, and as a result, our cultural influence ebbs and flows like the
British tide.
One might think Gospel music would be different because the Black Church
is a rare institutional space not dependent on white largesse for sustainability
or survival. It does have the capacity to develop and nurture talent and to
be a repository for Black memory, Black creativity and Black spirituality,
but for the most part, it has not done so. In societies where our skin
colour, beliefs and identities are under surveillance and attack, where you
can be British and flavour of the month one minute and then deported as
246 William Ackah
an illegal migrant the next, it is critical that there are spaces in the UK that
Black communities can call home. Spaces where remnants can be sustained
in the face of adverse circumstances. We need an empowering song to sing,
and we require sustainable platforms from which we can develop Black
British gospel sounds that will speak into the experiences of our
communities.
Towards a Black Power of Black Gospel Music Liberation

To generate that sound will require power. The frustration voiced by Black
theologians in Britain and others is that the Black Church has latent power,
but it is not utilising it.17 This volume, the first of its kind, has power; it is
generating critical knowledge about underserved and under-researched com-
munities. As a first, it will pave the way for others to follow, and my wish
would be that it would normalise critical reflexive practice and scholarship
in Black Church and faith circles. It should not be a problem to question
why we as Black people are singing wash me and I shall be whiter than
snow; it should be a critical necessity. This should be the start of a journey
not its apex. Finally, we need spiritual, economic and producer power to
work together. We need to borrow less from others and produce and support
more of our own. We need to empower to generate Black power,18 and with
that power, we need to create, write, produce and sing songs that will leave a
legacy of empowerment and change for the Black survivors in this strange
land.
Notes
1 David Olusoga, Black and British: A Forgotten History (London: Macmillan, 2017).
2 Peter Fryer, Staying Power: The History of Black People in Britain (London: Pluto,
1984).
3 Babatunde Adedibu, Coat of Many Colours: The Origin, Growth, Distinctiveness
and Contributions of Black Majority Churches to British Christianity (Blackpool,
UK: Wisdom Summit, 2012).
4 Beckford this volume. See also Robert Beckford, Documentary as Exorcism:
Resisting the Bewitchment of Colonial Christianity (London: Bloomsbury, 2014).
5 Ingalls and Luce, this volume.
6 Charles, this volume, and William Ackah, Pan-Africanism Exploring the Contra-
dictions: Politics, Identity and Development in Africa and the African Diaspora
(Aldershot: Ashgate, 1999).
7 Muir, this volume. See also Pauline E. Muir, ‘Sounds Mega: Music Discourse of
Black Majority Churches in London’ (PhD thesis, University of London, 2018).
8 I say in general, as there are exceptions to the rule. See for example Beckford this
volume.
9 McKenzie, this volume.
10 Luce, this volume, Ingalls, this volume.
11 Willam Ackah, ‘Africa and the Globalisation of Religion in the Contemporary Era,’
in Africa in Global History: A Handbook, eds. Toyin Falola and Mohammed
Bashir Salau (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2022), 263–280.
Afterword 247
12 Gerard Meagher, ‘Swing Low, Sweet Chariot makes me feel uncomfortable, says
Maro Itoje,’ The Guardian, 30 June 2020.
13 Ackah, William. Pan-Africanism Exploring the Contradictions: Politics, Identity and
Development in Africa and the African Diaspora (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1999).
14 Muir, this volume.
15 McKenzie, this volume.
16 Beckford, this volume.
17 Robert Beckford, Jesus is Dread: Black Theology and Black Culture in Britain
(London: Darton Longman & Todd, 1997).
18 Kwame Ture and Charles Hamilton, Black Power: The Politics of Liberation (New
York: Random House, 1967).
References
Ackah, Willam. ‘Africa and the Globalisation of Religion in the Contemporary Era.’ In
Africa in Global History: A Handbook, edited by Toyin Falola and Mohammed
Bashir Salau, pp. 263–280. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2022.
Ackah, William. Pan-Africanism Exploring the Contradictions: Politics, Identity and
Development in Africa and the African Diaspora. Aldershot: Ashgate, 1999.
Contributions of Black Majority Churches to British Christianity. Blackpool, UK:
Wisdom Summit, 2012.
Beckford, Robert. Jesus is Dread: Black Theology and Black Culture in Britain.
London: Darton, Longman & Todd, 1997.
Fryer, Peter. Staying Power: The History of Black People in Britain. London: Pluto,
1984.
Meagher, Gerard. ‘Swing Low, Sweet Chariot makes me feel uncomfortable, says Maro
Itoje.’ The Guardian, 30 June 2020.
Muir, Pauline E. ‘Sounds Mega: Music Discourse of Black Majority Churches in
Ture, Kwame and Charles Hamilton. Black Power: The Politics of Liberation. New
York: Random House, 1967.
Index
A-Star 137, 142n48, 143n64 Aldred, Joe 10

Abbington, James 32–33 ‘Amazing Grace’ 103–104, 113;
Ackah, William ix, 14n38, 14n40, 171, album 118n48
241–247 Ammerman, Nancy 74
Adams, Yolanda 84 Anglican Church 21, 27, 69, 72, 171
aesthetic 6, 130, 125–127, 135–137, 180, Apostolic Church 21, 38n38
200; ‘Badman’ 129; BBGM 1, 130, 200; Azusa Street Church 47, 52
Black 6, 180, 215; Black American 111;
black church 135–137; Christian 93, 96, Babylon 2–5, 40n88, 150, 227, 241;
135–137; grime 127, 129, 131, 134, 138, see also Rivers of Babylon
144n87, 144n90, 156; hip hop 123, ‘Babylonian Britain’ 35
125–126, 128; post-industrial 131; Bach, J.S. 191, 194–195, 199–201, 202n9
street 123, 127, 143n75 Bath Community Gospel Choir (BCGC) 76
African American 148–149, 244; artists Beckford, Robert ix, 4, 12, 150, 152,
67, 84, 127; choral directors 193; 169–190, 206, 216
Christianity 160; church 48, 57, 124; Berger, Peter 106–107, 109, 116n19
culture 241; gospel music (AAGM) ‘Bibles Bibles’ 129–130, 142n53,154
6–7, 8, 14n40, 14n41, 19–20, 32, 48–50, Bible reading 136
55, 57, 64, 66–67, 124, 130, 194, Bible study 27, 112, 196
199–201, 232, 244; hip hop 126, 127; Black British Gospel Music (BBGM) 1–2,
history 230; hymnody 34, 40n86; 4, 6–12, 19–22, 31, 33–36, 36n2, 36n3,
influence 33, 47; music 51; music 36n9, 37n13, 58, 63, 110–111, 114,
cultures 180; musical styles 68, 127; 118n48, 123–125, 130, 191, 194–201,
performance style 14n40; ‘slave songs’ 209, 227–234, 237, 241, 243–245; defi-
90; songwriters 211; spirituals 9, 20, nitions 5–8, 66–67; economic aspects
32–33, 36n10, 90, 93, 99n31, 139n2, 243 173, 176, 205–226; historiography
African Caribbean 2–4, 20, 23–25, 32–36, 228–231; origins of 19–43; theological
40n81, 45–46, 49–51, 66, 68, 110–111, aspects 72–74
148–150, 153, 160, 171–173, 180, 183, Black gospel music 1–18; see also Black
210, 215, 220n43, 221n55, 229, 230, British Gospel Music, African
243–244; choruses 7, 26–30; Christians American gospel music
144n83; churches 10, 21, 23, 29, 33–35, Black Lives Matter 193, 205, 217n6
37n14, 172–173; communities 243; Black Majority Churches (BMCs) 3–4
community organizations 7; descent 6, 6–7, 11, 14n39, 45–46, 49, 58, 105,
22, 35; gospel 12; heritage 68, 171; 124, 136, 150–152, 160, 205, 210–216,
migrants 12n1, 20–21, 36, 150, 229; 220n43, 220n46, 227, 232–233, 237n11
music ministry style 171; Pentecostals Black majority Pentecostal churches
10, 20, 22, 33–36, 171; people 1, 20, 23, 44–45, 123–125, 130–131,135–136,
34,171; religious roots 32–33 140n5, 144n99
Index 249
Black sacred music 21–23, 123–124, 127, Coldplay 106
140n3, 192, 201 Commonwealth 2, 23, 100
Blackness 49, 147–149, 202n3, 206; contemporary worship music (CWM) 57,
diversity of 147, 149; hierarchy of 49; 206, 208, 212, 214–215, 221n76, 236;
ontological 172; political 6, 14n38 Contemporary Christian music (CCM)
Blind Boys of Alabama 84 49–51, 241; see also praise and worship
‘Blinded By Your Grace’ 51, 54–55, 108, conviviality 47, 77–78
114, 158–159, 175 Craib, Ian 195–197
blues 124, 149 Critical Race Theory 206
Bristol 65–66 Cross Rhythms 10, 141n25
Broughton, Viv 8–9, 36n9, 118n48, Crouch, Andraé 67, 84, 112, 124, 140n6,
220n41 209, 220n41
Brown, Nicky 213, 226 Cummings, Tony 126, 141n25
Burton, Ken 201, 203n25
dancing 4, 10, 33, 49–50, 53, 57, 154, 170,
Caesar, Shirley 84 172, 244
Calley, Malcolm 110 decolonising 174, 177–178, 205–226,
Caribbean see African Caribbean 235–237; BBGM 174, 177–178, 228;
Casselberry, Judith 109, 115n5, 117n38 Black church music 174; canon
Cavanagh, Naomi 87 207–210; congregational music
Charles, Monique iii, 11, 127, 136, 205–226, 235–237; theology 177–178;
142n39, 142n49, 144n99, 147–168, 243 university curriculum 206–207, 217;
Charles, Ray 124, 140n6 worship 236
choirs see gospel choirs diaspora 4, 124, 183; African 6, 68,
choir directors 6, 11, 36n7, 63–66, 69, 136, 140n3, 141n35, 160, 171–173,210,
74–77, 83–84, 86, 97–98, 108, 111, 227–230, 233; Black 2, 193, 195, 201;
117n45, 191–194, 242 Jamaican 183; Nigerian 46, 151,
choruses 7, 23, 33–34, 84, 111, 117n42, 160, 171–72;
171–172, 192, 210 West African 172
christendom 46, 106–107 disenchantment 106–107
Christian Copyright Licensing Interna- Dixon, Jessy 84
tional (CCLI) 205–206, 208–212, Dixon, Marcia 36n7
214–217, 235–236 Dizzee Rascal 11, 128, 147, 153–156,
Christianity 46, 114, 132–135, 155, 196, 160–161
206 see also Pentecostalism; African DJ 135–137, 144n90,
American Christianity, African Douglas, Alexander iii, 12, 191–204
Caribbean Christianity, World drum and bass 127, 181
Christianity; and Empire 2–5
Evangelical 8, 46, 109, 170, 206, Ealing Christian Centre (ECC) 44–58
210–11 Black Christianity 9–10, Edwards, Joel 10, 29–31
20–22, 24, 30, 123, 205, 216 Elim movement 45, 48–49; see also Elim
Charismatic 10, 52, 69, 72, 132, 135, Sound
147, 150, 172, 208 Elim Sound, 48–49
Colonial 173, 177, 182–83, 216 Global Empire 1–3, 206, 242, 156
South 46 Hip hop and 125–127 Empire Windrush 1, 12n1, 21,
West African 46, 171–72 117n40; and H.M.S. Windrush
Western Christianity 32, 105 Church of 201 see also Windrush
England see Anglican Church ethics 131, 200, 231, 206;
Church of God in Christ (COGIC) 45, Christian 131, 206; historical 231;
188n48 of inclusivity 200;
Church of God of Prophecy (COGOP) musical 193
45, 65, 108, 116n26 evangelism 24, 27, 46–48, 54–55, 113,
clapping 49–50, 53, 117n42, 136 124–126, 134, 170
Clark Sisters 84, 110 exile 2–3, 27, 31, 35, 227
250 Index
fashion: urban 126, 135, 137 Hillsong 48, 57, 210; London 57, 170
Fletcher, Juliet 10, 118n48 hip hop 5, 11, 48, 50, 54, 123–130; and
Floyd, George 112, 118n58, 192, Christianity 123–127, 130, 139n2, 147,
205–206, 235, 238n15 152, 175, 182,
Francis, Roy 9, 12n1, 78n1, 117n46, Holiness: lifestyle 26–27, 38n39, 125, 173;
213, 226 movement, 37n15; theology 21, 27,
Franklin, Aretha 67, 105, 118n48 37n15, 105
Franklin, Kirk 67–68, 84, 94, 211 Holy Spirit 48, 52–53, 57, 109, 149,
171–172, 212–213
Gang Signs & Prayer 108, 153, 156–158 Houghton, Israel 211
Gardiner, John Eliot 194, 200, 202n9 Hunte, Clarence 76
Gerloff, Roswith 10, 27 Hyacinth, Natalie iii, 11, 44–61
Ghetto Gospel: The New Testament 153, hymnody see Hymns
156–158 hymns 33, 48, 51, 57, 68, 84, 98n1, 236;
Ghetts 147, 153, 156–160, 164n74 gospel 34; hymnbooks 208; Pentecostal
Gibson, Karen 36n7, 108, 201 22–23, 33
Gilroy, Paul 3, 5–6, 77, 141n35, 152,
201n1 Ingalls, Monique iii, 1–18, 37n16, 62–82,
glossolalia see ‘speaking in tongues’ 107, 214–215, 227–228, 232–234, 236,
‘Go Down Moses’ 93, 104 237, 243
Goldsmiths Anti-Racist Action (GARA) Inspirational Choir 209
207, 218n17 Island Records 112
gospel choirs 6, 11, 62–82; community 6,
11, 62, 243; directors of 6, 9, Jackson, Mahalia 67, 84, 140n6
11, 63, 74–77, 83–104; diversity within Jagessar, Michael 206
63–64, 65–70, 75–78; rehearsals 65–66, Jamaican Bible Remix 169–183
75–77; see also Gospel Generation jazz 5, 124, 149, 244
Community Choir, Inspirational Jones, Alisha Lola 132–33, 199–200
Choir, Kingdom Choir,
London Gospel Kainos 117n45, 209
Community Choir, Renewal Choir, Keep the Faith 10, 212
Rhythms Choir, Soul Sanctuary Gospel Kingdom Choir 4, 11, 36n8, 62, 108, 114,
Choir 175–176
gospel codes 11, 105–107, 109, 111–114
Gospel Generation Community Choir Latty-Luce, Geraldine iii, 11, 72–73
(GGCC) 72, 85, 87–98, 100n53 83–104, 243
Gospel Stories Survey (GSS) 66–72, 80–81 Leonard, Tasha Cobbs 67
Greene, Travis 67 liberation theology 169, 182–183
grime 11–12, 123–214, 127–133, 138–139, liturgical practices: Black American 32;
143n59, 143n62, 147–148, 150–153, Black British 21–22, 27–28, 33, 35, 172;
156, 159–161, 243–244; see also MCs culturally diverse 172, 233; in gospel
gospel grime 11,123, 127, 129–139, 139n1, choirs 75; Windrush Pentecostal 21–22,
140n3, 140n4, 140n5, 142n56, 144n87, 27–28, 33, 35
144n99, 145n102, 153, 155, 160; see ‘lived religion’ 64
also MCs London Adventist Chorale 84
Guvna B 129–130, 138, 142n56, 145n107, London Community Gospel Choir
145n109, 154 (LCGC) 48, 62, 79n15, 84, 117n45, 209
London Posse 127
Hall, Stuart 2–3, 201n1, 202n3 Love Choir 106
Hammond organ 66, 75 117n45
Hawkins 110; Edwin 118n54,124; Majestic Singers 84
Family 112, 118n54; Tramaine 84, 112, Martin, Chris 106
118n54; Walter 84 McClurkin, Donnie 67, 103
Hill, Clifford 110 McDowell, William 67
Index 251
McKenzie, Dulcie Dixon ix, 1–18, 19–43, 222, 224, 236, see also contemporary
78n1, 90, 143n83 227–232, 237n11 worship music
McReynolds, Jonathan 67 prayer 27, 30, 33, 65, 72–73, 75–76, 83,
MCs 11, 123, 124, 126–139, 140n5, 85, 112, 136, 154, 157–158
142n49, 142n51, 142n53, 142n56, preaching 46, 76, 136, 144n93, 159, 172
143n62, 143n77, 144n88, 145n99, Premier Christian Radio 112–113
145n107, 147, 153 see also A-Star, Prince 113
Dizzee Rascal, Guvna B, Stormzy Psalm 137 2, 40n88, 227
Meade, Bazil 79n15, 84, 117n45, 201,
203n26 Rachinski, Howard 208
megachurches 44, 48–49 51, 172 radio 19, 36n2, 68–69, 86, 108, 209
migrants see African Caribbean migrants, Re:Mission 84
Windrush migrants, West Africans Redeemed Christian Church of God
Muir, Pauline ix, 1–18, 49, 124–125, 171–72
139n2, 185n21, 205–226, 227–228, Reddie, Anthony 171, 177, 206, 126
235–237 Reed, Teresa 79n14, 109, 115n5, 136,
‘My God is a Good God’ 192 140n3, 144n99, 149
reggae 9, 49, 50, 123–126, 150, 179, 181
New Testament Church of God (NTCG) Renewal Choir (Bristol) 65–66, 75, 79n12
45, 111, 171, 181 ‘Reverse mission’ 46, 150, 216, 222n85
Nigerian see diaspora, Nigerian; Rhythms Choir (Bristol) 85–86, 97–98
Christianity, West African ‘Rivers of Babylon’ 1–5, 227, 229
‘No More Dying There’ 88–89 Robinson, Noel 84, 212, 215, 226
Norman, Larry 209, 220n42 R&B 48–51, 57, 69, 108, 244
Nu Image 84
sacred/secular binary 11, 44, 49–52, 114,
Odeniran, Isaac 9, 78n1 124–125, 134–137, 139n3
‘Oh Happy Day’ 113, 118n54 Samuels, Kim 65, 75
‘Old-time’ Pentecostal singing 22–23, Sanders, Cheryl 26–27
33–34 Sankey, Ira David 84, 98n1
Onafuye, Samson Tosin ix, 11, 123–146, secular see also sacred/secular binary
243 secularism 46–47, 233
oral tradition 33–34, 110, 213 semiotics 105–106, 108–110
Sercombe, Jo 76
Paradise 209 Seventh Day Adventist 21, 203n25, 212,
Paris, Mica [Michelle Antoinette Wallen, 213, 226
MBE] 11, 111–114, 118n58, 118n60, Shardz 132–134, 137
118n61, 119n66 Sinach [Osinachi Kalu Okoro Egbu] 210
pentecostalism see also African Caribbean Singing Stewarts 203n25
Pentecostals, Black majority Pentecos- Sister Act 68 Sister Act 2: Back in the
tal churches, Church of God in Christ, Habit 85
Church of God of Prophecy, Elim Sister Rosetta Tharpe 84, 105, 124, 140n6
movement, New Testament Church of Smallwood, Emma 77, 87
God, Windrush Pentecostals Smallwood, Richard 67
Pickstock, Catherine 107 Smith, Io 25–26
Pinnock, Seth 111 Smith, James K. A. 93, 96–97
pluralism 107–114 116n19 Smith, Michael W. 210
popular music 7, 11, 48, 51, 63, 68–69, Smith, Steve Alexander 9, 78n1
106–109, 114, 123–126, 133–134, 173, S.O.E. (Son of Encouragement) 126
232–233 Songs of Praise 4, 36n2
Porter, Mark 5 soul (musical genre) 9, 48, 106, 111–114,
post-Christendom 106–107 182, 244
praise and worship 1, 7, 44, 48, 52–53, 69, Soul Sanctuary Gospel Choir 76
75, 139n2, 170–172, 208–210, 213–214; sound system culture 127, 159
252 Index
‘speaking in tongues’ 37n15, 45, 52, 53, Watts, Isaac 49
95, 149 ‘Way Maker’ 210, 220, 222
Spencer, Jon Michael 33, 177 Weber, Max 106–107
Spirit 28–29, 49, 53, 57, 84, 109, 112, 172 ; Wesley, Charles 51
and of God 94–95, 171; and possession West Africans 6, 7, 32, 49, 51,
136 see also Holy Spirit 67, 68, 149, 150, 151, 153, 160, 171,
spirituals see African American spirituals 172, 173
survival theology 29–31 Wiley 128, 147, 153–156, 160–161
‘Steal Away’ 92–93 Williams, Matthew iii, 11, 105–122
Stewart, Oscar 201, 203n25 Wilmore, Gayraud 30–31, 176
Stormzy (Michael Ebenazer Kwadjo Winans: Bebe 244; family 110
Omari Owuo Jr.) 51, 54–55, 108–109, Windrush 9; church pioneers 25;
114, 147, 153, 156–160, 175 descendants 111; era 11; generation 2,
3, 21, 24, 30, 32, 85, 110, 229, 245;
‘Take My Hand Precious Lord’ 113 migrants 12n1, 21–26, 28, 38n38;
Taylor, Charles 107 Pentecostals 21–29, 31, 33–36;
Tharpe, Rosetta see Sister Rosetta Pentecostal progenies 22, 31, 35;
Tharpe, 84, 105, 124 spirituality 31; youth 3
‘The Rock’ Church (Birmingham) 171–72 World Christianity 234
theomusicology 177 worship see praise and worship,
tongues speech see ‘speaking in tongues’ worship team
transcendence 97, 107, 109–110 worship team 1, 46–50, 53–57, 170
Wade, Denis 212, 221n62 YouTube 209, 212

Walker, Hezekiah 84
Walker, Robin 9 Zion 2–5, 227–228

Black British Gospel Music

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Black British Gospel Music

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Black British Gospel Music

Black British Gospel Music is a dynamic and multifaceted musical practice, a

Pauline Muir is a lecturer in Arts Management at Goldsmiths College, Uni­

Monique M. Ingalls is Associate Professor of Music and Church Music Grad­

Congregational music-making is a vital and vibrant practice within Christian

Ethics and Christian Musicking

Hymns and Constructions of Race

Black British Gospel Music

For more information about this series, please visit: https://www.routledge.

ISBN: 9781032145853 (hbk)

List of illustrations vii

Introduction: Rivers of Babylon: Contextualizing Black

1 Look Where God has Brought Us!: Remembering the Religious

2 ‘Gifts and Talents’: Sacred and Secular Musical Performance

3 Just Like Church, Not Like Church, or Better Than Church?:

4 Black British Gospel Music: A Perspective from a Reluctant

5 Black British Gospel-Pop Crossover: ‘Gospel Codes’

6 The ‘Sacred’ and ‘Secular’ Interplay Within Gospel Grime

8 The Jamaican Bible Remix: A Theomusicological Praxis for

10 Decolonising Congregational Music 205

11 Black British Gospel Music Past, Present, and Future: Final

Afterword - We need Black Power, Lord! 241

Monique Charles is an assistant professor of Sociology at Chapman University;

Understanding Conﬂuences of Empire and Christianity: A Theoretical

Colonialism condensed the diversity of global complexities and temporal­

How Can We Sing the Lord’s Song?

These Rivers Flow Out to the Sea

‘Black British Gospel Music’: Towards a Generative Deﬁnition

a good reason to capitalize the racial designation “black,” then, is precisely

Music is often accorded a privileged place in generating and reﬂecting Black

Selected Literature Review

Book Organization and Chapter Summary

Initiating a Historical Pathway for the Study of BBGM

A Black British Pentecostal Inquiry of BBGM

Arrival and Settlement of Windrush Migrants

The Rise of Black Pentecostal Churches in Post-war Britain

The Multiple Functions of Post-war Black Pentecostal Churches

I’m a new creation, I’m a brand-new man [woman]

African American scholar Cheryl Sanders provides an example of the ideal of

Heaven is better than this,

We are together again, just praising the Lord,

Spirituality is what ‘makes us tick.’ It is the sum of forces, influences,

Pentecostal spirituality influenced Windrush Pentecostals in many ways that

I’ve found a new way of living,

Accordingly, the spirituality of Windrush Pentecostals embodied an approach

Windrush Pentecostal Spirituality of Survival

Accordingly, the singing repertoire in congregational worship led by the

To help us reﬂect further on the motif of survival as an expression of spiri­

The Spirituality of Windrush Pentecostal Progenies

Locating African Caribbean Religious Roots

Also reﬂecting on the historicity of Spirituals, African American hymnologist

Towards Preserving an African Caribbean Pentecostal Religious Legacy

Music in Weekly Worship at ECC

Sacred/Secular binary in Pentecostal music

ECC then can be placed within a continuum of long-running, historical

‘Gifts and Talents’: Musical Creativity as a Spiritually Divine Gift

Secular music, therefore, instead of being viewed as un-Godly, was viewed as

…with the Stormzy song…you go through those lyrics, there’s nothing

Pauline Muir is a lecturer in Arts Management at Goldsmiths College, Uni

Monique M. Ingalls is Associate Professor of Music and Church Music Grad

Colonialism condensed the diversity of global complexities and temporal

To help us reﬂect further on the motif of survival as an expression of spiri

MNEK’s performance is littered with gospel codes; stylisation that semi