FRI., APRIL 28, 2006
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Holy Modal Rounder
by Michael James McGonigal
The other day a friend who runs a very cool all-vinyl record shop in North Portland showed me a nondescript, privately pressed LP from the '60s credited to "Evangelist and Pastor Eld. L. Overstreet, Sr., Memphis National Convocation Outdoor Preacher since 1951." My heart raced crazily. It's gonna sound corny, but Overstreet's album on Arhoolie, 1960's visceral, tranced-out, very bluesy and down-and-dirty gospel recording Live at the Powerhouse Church of God (or, to give it the full title on the cover, Rev. Louis Overstreet with His Sons and the Congregation of St. Luke's Powerhouse Church of God in Christ, Recorded 'Live' in Phoenix, Arizona) , absolutely changed my life. Overstreet is as much the reason I write about gospel music as anyone else. Eric, the store owner, pointed to the vintage LP's mailing addresses. One was for Arizona, and the other for... Portland? Yes, Portland, where I live.
Soon I learned that the gospel blues great, who passed away here in 1980, has a widow who pastors in the church Rev. Louis started with her in 1965, and that it was about a mile and a half from my house. When I met in person with Pastor Mary, I found her to be as charming and youthful as she is righteous. Stepping into the Overstreet Powerhouse Temple Church of God In Christ (COGIC) during a Sunday service, I was shaking with a weird, star-struck excitement as I entered, much the way any normal person might be if they were to meet, say, Bono, and see him perform for just 50 people. I do not share the same exact beliefs as Pastor Mary, but as soon as I went inside the 4525 N. Williams Avenue church, I felt at home.
The place is very lived-in and not fancy, and the scene that March afternoon was chaotic. Kids were running around the pews while a large fellow in the front began to "fall out" and mumble to himself with a smile on his face. Best of all, the gospel numbers and traditional hymns seemed to start spontaneously and suddenly end the same way. Someone would start to play drums and then walk away. A woman would testify and a man would shout along rhythmically. I'd seen similar scenes in COGIC and Baptist churches before, but never with quite this energy or this blessed level of DIY chaos. The music was raw and rad — there's a totally egoless element to it you'll have a hard time finding anywhere else. Instantly, I felt like I belonged, and said so when Pastor Mary asked me to testify toward the end of the service. Afterwards, the parishioners were very sweet and truly welcoming to me.
Pastor Mary met her second husband, the Rev. Louis Overstreet, at the national Church of God In Christ (COGIC) headquarters in Memphis, Tennessee, in November 1964, during the Church's annual meeting. As usual, the big, burly and handsome Rev. Overstreet performed outdoors, handling the overflow from the main temple. "I've never heard anybody play the guitar and sing like him," she said. "Nobody."
Louis Overstreet was born in Lakeland, Louisiana, in 1921, to a family of sharecropping Baptists. His musical inclinations showed at an early age; at 12, after he moved to Baton Rouge with his mother and five sisters, he started to sing in quartet groups, until he tired of other people singing about God but not acting righteously, and he vowed to play alone or with family from then on.
The Rev. Overstreet's music was overpoweringly rhythmic and heady. Folklorist Chris Strachwitz of Arhoolie first encountered Overstreet in 1960. Strachwitz wrote in the liner notes to Live at the Powerhouse Church of God, "There, on the sidewalk outside a tavern, was a tall black man dressed in a black robe playing an electric guitar which was plugged into an amplifier with a chord running into a beer joint. About eight feet away from him, around a second mike, standing on the sidewalk and also plugged into the amp, were four young boys playing the role of his choir and congregation. I was captivated by this man's prayers, songs, and intensity of delivery." Strachwitz recorded the preacher and his four sons two years later at Overstreet's small storefront church in Phoenix. The album was reissued twice — once on vinyl in 1977, and in an awesome expanded and remastered CD version in 1995, which has solo songs that show a more delicate, nuanced style.
Is it possible to have a huge influence (or even a minor one) without huge numbers? If it is, then the Rev. Louis is it. Brian Turner, program director for New Jersey's famed free-form radio station WFMU, considers Louis Overstreet "the heaviest player on the planet"; I played him once after [spastic avant-hardcore duo] Lightning Bolt, and it topped them." I had the same experience recently, when I was DJ'ing a show by the Animal Collective, a band I naturally love. When their set was over, I put on "Working on a Building" by Rev. Overstreet, and when it kicked in, in all its propulsive, dervish-like fervor, I felt bad for the band, upstaged at their own show by an archival recording made over forty years earlier.
Interest in the Reverend's music continues to grow. Four years ago, an intriguing arts journal called 50 Miles of Elbow Room printed a glowing feature on the Rev. Overstreet by Adam Lore, who called him "a master of tension buildup and release" who "made good use of the power of subtly varied repetition." Lore went on to write that "when you hear his deep righteous voice testify, combined with the impassioned voices of his flock, you've got to believe in something, if not Jesus per se." Recently, the retro rock geek music distributor and record label Crypt Records called the Overstreet album "probably thee greatest gospel recording ever." You can argue with their spelling, but it's tough to argue with that statement.
Soon I learned that the gospel blues great, who passed away here in 1980, has a widow who pastors in the church Rev. Louis started with her in 1965, and that it was about a mile and a half from my house. When I met in person with Pastor Mary, I found her to be as charming and youthful as she is righteous. Stepping into the Overstreet Powerhouse Temple Church of God In Christ (COGIC) during a Sunday service, I was shaking with a weird, star-struck excitement as I entered, much the way any normal person might be if they were to meet, say, Bono, and see him perform for just 50 people. I do not share the same exact beliefs as Pastor Mary, but as soon as I went inside the 4525 N. Williams Avenue church, I felt at home.
The place is very lived-in and not fancy, and the scene that March afternoon was chaotic. Kids were running around the pews while a large fellow in the front began to "fall out" and mumble to himself with a smile on his face. Best of all, the gospel numbers and traditional hymns seemed to start spontaneously and suddenly end the same way. Someone would start to play drums and then walk away. A woman would testify and a man would shout along rhythmically. I'd seen similar scenes in COGIC and Baptist churches before, but never with quite this energy or this blessed level of DIY chaos. The music was raw and rad — there's a totally egoless element to it you'll have a hard time finding anywhere else. Instantly, I felt like I belonged, and said so when Pastor Mary asked me to testify toward the end of the service. Afterwards, the parishioners were very sweet and truly welcoming to me.
Pastor Mary met her second husband, the Rev. Louis Overstreet, at the national Church of God In Christ (COGIC) headquarters in Memphis, Tennessee, in November 1964, during the Church's annual meeting. As usual, the big, burly and handsome Rev. Overstreet performed outdoors, handling the overflow from the main temple. "I've never heard anybody play the guitar and sing like him," she said. "Nobody."
Louis Overstreet was born in Lakeland, Louisiana, in 1921, to a family of sharecropping Baptists. His musical inclinations showed at an early age; at 12, after he moved to Baton Rouge with his mother and five sisters, he started to sing in quartet groups, until he tired of other people singing about God but not acting righteously, and he vowed to play alone or with family from then on.
The Rev. Overstreet's music was overpoweringly rhythmic and heady. Folklorist Chris Strachwitz of Arhoolie first encountered Overstreet in 1960. Strachwitz wrote in the liner notes to Live at the Powerhouse Church of God, "There, on the sidewalk outside a tavern, was a tall black man dressed in a black robe playing an electric guitar which was plugged into an amplifier with a chord running into a beer joint. About eight feet away from him, around a second mike, standing on the sidewalk and also plugged into the amp, were four young boys playing the role of his choir and congregation. I was captivated by this man's prayers, songs, and intensity of delivery." Strachwitz recorded the preacher and his four sons two years later at Overstreet's small storefront church in Phoenix. The album was reissued twice — once on vinyl in 1977, and in an awesome expanded and remastered CD version in 1995, which has solo songs that show a more delicate, nuanced style.
Is it possible to have a huge influence (or even a minor one) without huge numbers? If it is, then the Rev. Louis is it. Brian Turner, program director for New Jersey's famed free-form radio station WFMU, considers Louis Overstreet "the heaviest player on the planet"; I played him once after [spastic avant-hardcore duo] Lightning Bolt, and it topped them." I had the same experience recently, when I was DJ'ing a show by the Animal Collective, a band I naturally love. When their set was over, I put on "Working on a Building" by Rev. Overstreet, and when it kicked in, in all its propulsive, dervish-like fervor, I felt bad for the band, upstaged at their own show by an archival recording made over forty years earlier.
Interest in the Reverend's music continues to grow. Four years ago, an intriguing arts journal called 50 Miles of Elbow Room printed a glowing feature on the Rev. Overstreet by Adam Lore, who called him "a master of tension buildup and release" who "made good use of the power of subtly varied repetition." Lore went on to write that "when you hear his deep righteous voice testify, combined with the impassioned voices of his flock, you've got to believe in something, if not Jesus per se." Recently, the retro rock geek music distributor and record label Crypt Records called the Overstreet album "probably thee greatest gospel recording ever." You can argue with their spelling, but it's tough to argue with that statement.
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