Tommy Slang was born in a Christian
home in the northern Los Angeles suburb of Newbury Park. As a youth growing up in 1990's, he was taken to church every
Sunday by his parents, to sit in the pews and listen to a local Protestant pastor preach about the Atonement of
Christ, and His Apostles as they ministered in the early days of Christianity. As is normally the case with children
his age, Tommy found the stories of faith, courage and martyrdom to be marginally interesting,but for the most part, it was
such a distant concept it could scarcely be applied to his world of video games, cartoons and L.A.'s beloved Dodgers and Lakers.
Moreover, any testimony Tommy may have possessed in Christ was mostly a result of holding on to his parent's coattails.
In other words, his belief in religion was mostly a reflection of what his parents believed, not what he believed himself.
His religious upbringing did, however, instill in tommy a sense of decency that allowed him the wherewithal to cultivate within
him a foundation on which to build critical morays of right and wrong. Though he did not understand it at the time,
Christ's message of love had been planted in his heart as a seed, though now lying dormant, possessed the potential of growing
someday into a tree of fruition.
Tommy would on occasion even pick up his Bible, given to him by his parents after his Baptism, and browse the pages in search
of the many stories he had heard a thousand times in Sunday school throughout his youth. He was particularly fond of
Psalm, and the soothing verses of David's praise of God. He identified keenly with David's reliance upon God for solace
and comfort. Indeed, it was one of the few books in the Old Testament that Tommy could understand -- most of the books
in the Old Testament Tommy found beyond his reach and bordered on the mundane. The New Testament as a whole was far
less convoluted than the Old Testament. This scripture reading -- though far and few between -- helped Tommy solidify
the staying power of the Gospel of Jesus Christ within him. It was also crucial to Tommy acquiring his own testimony
in God the Father and His Son the Redeemer of the world.
In the back of Tommy's mind, however, was the constant nagging question, "Why is there a need for an Atonement?"
If God was all-powerful -- if He was the creator of the universe, why didn't He just forgive everyone for their sins and welcome
all into His kingdom of glory once they died? Tommy understood the message of love, compassion, mercy and forgiveness.
He understood that Christ was the only perfect human that ever lived. He understood that Christ was God's son sent
to Earth to teach us of those attributes that would make us better people. He could not, however, understand the need
for redemption. Indeed, Tommy found it perplexing that there was a need for a savior when God could simply save everyone
in an instant just by willing it. Essentially, Tommy believed in Christ, but he did not believe Christ.
That confusion was at the root of Tommy's conflict; the lack of faith that Jesus Christ could actually do what he claimed
he could do. This conflict is what would haunt Tommy as he grew into his teenage years -- it was the source that would
eventually lead him astray amongst a world of discontent and distraction. And with this belief
system, or better worded, fragile belief system, Tommy grow into this teens and embarked upon the journey toward
manhood.
Somewhere along the path
that he had chosen, Tommy heard, and fell in love with, rock 'n' roll music -- more specifically, a genre of rock 'n' roll
not widely accepted by the majority of music enthusiasts, namely, Goth. Tommy naturally therefore became mesmerized
by the electric guitar, and soon made up his mind that he would become a guitarist. He saved enough money over time
from his part-time job at a local ice cream shop, and purchased an old guitar and small practice amp from a pawn shop for
$100. A friend who lived down the street showed Tommy the basic barred chords that all novices use -- A, C, D, E, F,
G..., along with a few rudimentary scales used by millions of "up and coming rock 'n' roll stars." With
this basic knowledge, Tommy spent hours on end, shredding his fingers raw on the steel strings that cut like a knife
during the repetitive practice. Eventually, the finger tips formed callouses, and that brought about merciful relief
from the pain.
As time progressed,
Tommy's ability at his chosen instrument increased greatly. As though by providence, Tommy became a prolific
songwriter, creating music influenced by Metallica, and the other staple hard rock and heavy metal bands of the day.
He took particular interest in bands that not only possessed lots of edge, but who also showed theatric flare. Without
edge and theatrics, most music bored him to say the least. From Kiss in the old days to Glam and Goth groups of
the present. Everything accelerated, however, when Tommy first heard the songs of Marilyn Manson.
From him, there was no turning back. Manson possessed everything that Tommy was looking for in rock 'n' roll -- edge,
thunderous rhythm, theatrics, attitude, irreverence, and something that he had never really encountered before -- a dark,
underworld theme that was shockingly opposite of everything Tommy had been exposed to in Church during his growing-up years
in Newbury Park. He was at first somewhat quizzical of the message, but as time progressed, he became indifferent to
it. There was never an embracing of the darkness of the music; he shrugged it off, paying no attention to the words,
and only concentrated on the music. Tommy was never a lyricist -- the words were not the most important element of rock
music. Tommy was of the opinion that lyrics really did not matter in rock 'n' roll. It was the guitar, the bass,
the drums and the keyboards, the theatrics, the stage -- the words were merely filler to him. The vocal melody mattered,
but the lyrics? No way! Rock was not poetry, it was thunder!
Tommy was frankly sickened by acoustic folk music with pretty lyrics of love and
life. James Taylor practically made him vomit. Country music made him crawl out of his skin. Without edge
and theatre, you might as well flush the music down the toilet -- it was all annoying jibberish. The rock that Tommy
settled into therefore was Goth. It was the only music that now mattered. There was no rock theatre like it on
the earth. Tommy became a Goth rocker like a freight train out of control down a steep hill. He began to write
Goth songs prolifically. But the lyrics? Let the other band members write the words... Tommy would write
the thunder.
Golgotha Night Club was
a Goth music venue where Tommy began to hang out to see the many bands that played on the Sunset Strip -- the heart of
the Los Angeles rock music scene. It was a magnet for misguided youth adjourned in black, with pale faces, jet
black hair and surrounded with loud rock 'n' roll crashing through the smoke-filled thickness of stale air. Darkness
prevailed, both in the physical and in the psychological. Nothing could have been farther from Tommy's Christian roots,
but he didn't care -- in fact, the dark ambiance of the Goth atmosphere did not even faze him. The alluring effects
of Goth overshadowed any memory of Christ he may have once possessed. The excitement of the music was simply too captivating
on his senses to permit any other train of thought. It was a drug that Tommy had become hopelessly addicted to.
He reasoned, "It's only art, how bad could it really be." He became mesmerized with darkness. The
material world had swallowed up all spiritual reason -- erasing any connection to righteousness Tommy may have had -- a black
hole that sucked all matter in leaving little if any hope of escape. Indeed, who would have a need to escape if one
did not even consider themselves as captives to begin with? It was in these surroundings where Tommy met a mysterious
individual who would change the way he looked at life -- a middle-aged Asian man named Takada.
While at Golgotha, in the early morning
hours of a typical Saturday -- after the bar had stopped serving alcohol, Tommy sat at a table in the back of the lounge listening
to the Goth band Two Masters. The lead singer belted out lyrics that glorified the exploits of an albino vampire
who encouraged, among other things, killing his victims after seducing and sucking out their entire blood supply in a frenzied
rage. Tommy, though ignoring the lyrical content, was mesmerized with the song's thunderous beat, and alluring chord
structure. Takada, without Tommy even noticing, had taken a seat at his small round table. When Tommy finally
did become aware of Takada's presence, he was somewhat annoyed that in spite of the many empty tables around him, Takada had
sat at his table. Nevertheless, Tommy nodded to Takada and turned his attention back to the music. Takada ignored
the band and stared directly at Tommy. Noticing uneasily Takada's gaze, Tommy took a couple of glances at him and
finally spoke.
"What's
up man? Do I know you?
Takada smiled, somewhat teasingly. "Not yet. Name's Takada. There, now you know me."
Tommy hardly heard him over the loud music.
Just as it seemed fruitless to continue with the conversation, the song ended and the band left the state to take a break.
All that remained in the club was the chattering of the patrons, leaving the opportunity for Tommy and Takada to continue
the conversation. Takada broke the silence.
"What do you think of the band?"
"They have some nice chops," Tommy answered. "The guitarist could play some more solos... I know I would."
"You play?" Takada asked
with interest.
"I do,"
Tommy responded.
Takada leaned
forward in his chair and asked, "Do you write?"
"I do," Tommy responded with the same tonality as his previous response.
"What do you write about?"
Tommy thought Takada's question was somewhat unusual and replied, "Does
it matter? The lyrics aren't what's important. The lyrics are only filler as far as I'm concerned."
Takada took exception. "Oh,
but you're wrong my friend. Especially with Goth. Goth has a message."
Tommy chuckled. "What message is that?"
Takada's eyes narrowed as if to add meaning to his
next comment. "Darkness, my friend. Goth is a message of darkness."
Tommy looked Takada in the eye quizzically, his interested peaked by Takada's
odd assertion. Takada continued.
"The darkness of Goth is a statement of purity in a world of mundane religious lies and corruption.
(Additional
text to be added shortly...)
