What does famed soul-selling blues guitarist Robert Johnson have to do with a metal festival in central Tennessee? Technically, not a lot, but I recently watched a documentary about the crossroads-loving Johnson which explained the background behind the phenomenon of describing certain music as “the devil’s music.” Back in the day, the length of blues musicians’ Saturday night gigs would often run so long that they became Sunday morning jam sessions. And with Sunday historically being designated as church day, preachers and pastors started noticing parishioners weren’t turning up to services because they were having a way better time hanging in juke joints and nursing hangovers while listening to bands continue to tear it up. This absence of folks in the pews ended up cutting into the church’s bottom line when it came time to pass around the collection plate. So began the tagging of the blues as “the devil’s music” from the pulpit as a way to guilt and scare ordinary folk as it leeched attention away from Sunday mass participation and, therefore, money from church coffers. History has seen this ‘devil’s music’ gambit to be an effective guilt trip and scare tactic, from the appearance of modal jazz and later Elvis to the Satanic Panic of the ‘80s and, in the case of director Randall Kendrick’s Death Reigns, an underground metal festival held in the Bible Belt.
Tennessee’s Metal Devastation Fest has been held annually since 2022 and is the brainchild of Raven Moonla and Zach Moonshine, they of the online radio show and PR company of the same name. The story of the duo, how they came to be a couple and their background in this wacky world of underground music (and how they manage to keep beverages so dangerously close to their computing, sound mixing and broadcasting gear without ever spilling anything) is handled with entertaining swiftness and depth, setting the stage for how a serendipitous planned lack of planning steered them towards putting on a fest that exists as a microcosmic event of the macrocosmic ones those normally covered in Decibel. The first Metal Devastation Fest was held in Lexington, TN, in a park on the waterfront and, right before its one-day summertime airing, along came the Christians. Following their clockwork hand-wringing about the fest being demonic and an example of the devil’s music designed to blah, blah, blah, the online protesting and pestering began. Kendrick, Moonla and Moonshine include actual quotes and messages from “concerned citizens” and it quickly becomes clear that that the opposition are some of the most hateful, gullible and egocentric people to ever be self-anointed in the name of the Lord. I’m sure you’re shocked. It’s here that Death Reigns, in addition to highlighting the battle between good and evil, inadvertently highlights the ills of social media and what happens when you give the tiniest amount of a voice, forum and power to people who would normally have trouble reading and understanding the ingredients on a bottle of water.
Needless to say, the fest’s tenure at its original location didn’t last, but actually worked to their advantage in that they found a more suitable, welcoming and centralized spot in Jackson, TN where the fest remains. The pushback locally in Jackson appeared to be limited to online rabble rousing, a stream of local power brokers, a family of staring contest losers, and the opportunistic grandstanding of a local Trump-affiliated right-wing politician, all of whom slinked away into the woodwork after the backing of the site manager and reports that the event went off without a hitch or incident. Herein lies the basis for the film’s title. But beyond the success of the fest to the tune of 3000 tickets sold, Death Reigns also shines a light on the post-show progress of bands and vendors alike and their impact on the community — i.e. the financial bump and revitalization of downtown Jackson. A true case of money talking and bullshit walking.
The film itself incorporates interview segments and intersperses them with live footage including the likes of two-time performers (the focus of the year one controversy) Casket Robbery, the Dimmu Borgir-meets-Magic the Gathering-meets-stand-up of Summoner’s Circle, Deciblog alumni/thrash nerds, Quiescent Mantis and many more and moves at a generous clip. The editing is slick, the coloring/color correction is top-notch as is the consistent sound quality. The segment with the Jackson-area politician mentioned above — the only opposing individual willing to sit for an interview, it should be noted — was a bit immature in its presentation, especially when contrasted with heartfelt statements from the bands and performers about the fest’s value for those not yet at the level of something like Maryland Deathfest, Northwest Terrorfest or even Decibel’s Metal & Beer Fest, and the demonstration of the symbiotic community that forms around underground music scenes. This shouldn’t be a revelation to anyone reading this, but for film festival crowds, some kid living in the buckle of the Bible Belt, or any normie willing to step out of their comfort zone to watch this, this could flip the switch to illuminate foreign concepts and their own prejudices. The film’s secondary message of not reading a book by its cover is exemplified in one of the closing scenes in which the Red Mountain invites crowd members onstage during the climactic conclusion of their set. You’ve probably seen it a million times before, but there’s always someone who hasn’t and to witness everyone from toddlers being held by their parents, dudes old and withered enough to be Dixie Dave from Weedeater’s pappy and every shade of headbanger in between safely having the time of their lives will not only illicit smiles on faces, but also quite possibly save the life of someone who regularly deals with isolation and ostracization.
Check out the trailer:
Death Reigns is streaming on Thunderflix here
The post Film Review: <em>Death Reigns</em> Shows That You Can’t Stop Rock and Roll, Even in the Bible Belt appeared first on Decibel Magazine.