During the summer of my junior year in high school I attended a week long art camp at Denver Art Institute. It was supposed to be one of those once in a lifetime, career charting experiences, but I remember practically nothing about it. The only thing I recollect is the last day; the closing ceremonies party. About twenty-five of us were gathered in a parking lot behind one of the buildings enjoying the outdoors, the Denver skyline, the complimentary snacks and a live DJ spinning top-40 under a tent in back. I was watching the DJ. He was thoroughly enjoying his craft even though no one in our little crowd was paying much attention to him. He was mainly mixing for himself. At one point he picked up a record, smiled at no one in particular and placed it on his turntable. Then, as if everyone suddenly noticed there was music playing, people started dancing. It was an up-beat song: a four-on-the-floor kick, a euro-dance synth, and a bouncy female vocal singing something in Spanish. The groove was catchy and our group loved it. One of the students leaned over to me and answered my unspoken question, “It's called the Macarena.”

Now, commonly cultural phenomenon take 2 years to reach the midwest. So, even though I had been as close as Denver, it was another 7 months before I heard the Macarena again. This time during a basketball halftime routine by our cheerleaders. Excitedly running up to their instructor after the game, I made it embarrassingly obvious that I too loved dance music. She must have found my passion useful, because, for the last few months of my senior year, I was the cheerleaders' supplier of quality EDM. This wasn't a hard task, of course. The spring and summer of '96 could be considered to be one of those golden eras in pop dance music. LaBouche, Ace of Base, Real McCoy, Snap, and other electronic music acts graced the airwaves. At the same time I was discovering my own niche amidst the diversity of the genre; buying all the compilation CDs our local Mr Goody could provide.

In the fall I started college. A few months into the first semester I stumbled across a Roland keyboard, and, on a whim, began began playing with the sequencer. Messing around for a few weeks proved fruitful. I built my first loop, wrote a few simple melodies, learned to record and suddenly I was more than a fan. I was a producer. It wasn't long before I was making and distributing cassette tapes with my musical creations on them. As they made their way around campus, I began to feel I was achieving a glimmer of success in what was still very much a hobby. But it was enough to draw me deeper. Over the course of a few years I co-hosted an EDM radio show, threw a couple of parties and a small-town rave, tried to start a record label and had my music released on a compilation CD.

Then, without telling the entire story, I found myself in Rhode Island dating a culture-saturated candy raver. She was very excited about my passion for dance music and thought the next logical step in my EDM adventure was to take me to an actual dance club. I wasn't so sure, but played along. She took me shopping for proper club attire, spiked my hair in some fancy style and figured out which club would be easiest to get into on a Friday night. And so, less than a month after settling in, I found myself donning a bright green “techno shirt”, braving big city traffic and nervously waiting in line with my ID to experience clubbing in Boston. To this day I don't have words to fully describe it. Amidst the flashing lights, ear splitting music and too many sweaty, slightly intoxicated people, I completely lost the desire to join the ranks of club culture. It was too much for this small town electronic music fan to handle.

See, I didn't originally get involved in this EDM thing because of the frills. It wasn't because of the glow sticks or the famous DJs or the colored lights or even the clubs. It was because of that sound. Oh, that wonderful sound. The sound of strings and synths and sound effects and the feel of a good kick drum. And for some that sound can lead you into the club culture. But for others, like me, it can lead somewhere completely different: a culture of worship.

Allow me to rewind this story a bit. Let's go back. Back past the Boston club, the radio show, the “Hey, Macarena”, and even past getting my first CD player. I still can picture it now. I was poking around our local Christian bookstore, and came across a single copy of World Wide Message Tribe's Take a Long Hike on cassette tape. Somehow I talked the store manager into letting me open the plastic wrap so I could listen to it. I popped it in the deck, donned the pair of broken headphones and pushed play. That was it! That sound. I bought it and raced home to play it for months on end until the tape wore out. I did the same thing with Zero's Ravenous, and then Motion Factory and then a brightly colored Manic Panic by Prophecy of P.A.N.I.C. These albums were the first of many forays into this thing we call electronic dance music.

While it may be called “dance” music, I more often found myself sitting perfectly still, eyes closed, lost in the music. I would just let the sound wash over me. But, in closing my eyes and listening to instrumental music, I began having my first in depth conversations with God. Electronic music became a door into the spiritual realm. My prayer life blossomed while listening to Prodigal Sons. Devotions became more enjoyable to the grooves of Scott Blackwell. And I had my first real, vivid experience with the Holy Spirit during a Rhythmsaints song. Nearly every spiritual experience had an electronic music soundtrack. In some ways my spiritual growth echoed the growth of my EDM collection. This symbiotic relationship continued as I matured in my Christian walk.

And then I started producing. As my worship became no longer just hearing, but doing, my passion for it grew. I began seeking to use my own music to lead people into the presence of God. My cassette tape creations were laced with Godly samples and electronic worship surfaces. My radio show was one of a few Christian shows on our college station and the only one that featured electronic music. The parties I threw were for church fellowships and the small-town rave I hosted was purely to evangelize and raise some money for missions. I led worship for my church congregation with my EDM and my first CD to be released on a label was written after an intense Spirit-filled worship service.

My entire experience with any kind of electronic music culture was rooted in my spiritual walk. So, I am sure you can understand the culture shock I experienced that night at the Boston club, not because of the music – I already loved that – but because, to me, their worship was foreign. The dance floor that night was filled with something altogether different than the kind of worship I was used to. I left that night vowing to continue utilizing electronic music to direct my heart towards God and lead others into a holy place.

I realize that this is a personal testimony, and not everyone can echo similar experiences. But  MacKenzie Wilson observes in Andy Hunter's Pandora bio that “dance bridges music with a higher spirituality.”, so I believe such experiences cannot be entirely uncommon. These days, instead of finding rare cassettes on dusty bookshelves, a few mouse clicks will pull up a myriad of custom live-stream stations and secular record labels are releasing Christian producers. Anyone can live miles and hours from a club, and yet enjoy just about any kind of electronic dance music they want. There is now a far better chance for people to connect with the music without embracing any specific culture.

So, it would seem that, as a Christian, I have a huge opportunity – dare I say mandate – to monopolize that bridge between higher spirituality and electronic music. In much the same way that Paul utilized the altar to the unknown god, I can use the music. I can be their guide. Through the sound of strings and synths and sound effects and the feel of a good kick drum I can promote a different kind of culture: Christian fellowship and a closer walk with God. I pray I always keep that in mind while composing an EDM track. Or laying out a DJ mix. Or popping in a good CD. Or simply striking up a conversation like, “Hey, remember the Macarena?”

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