Music and Atheism. Don’t think they have anything in common? I beg to differ.
I remember being about eight years old, sitting crossed legged on the school hall floor. Inevitably I began to daydream into and beyond it’s shiny polished veneer, when a snap of fingers and an uncompromising point, directed me to focus on the sermon of the day. The idea behind snapping me out my blissfully happy and gormless state was to make sure that I couldn’t escape having drummed into me, through the day to day, ritual process of osmosis, the lessons on how I should grow up to be a good Christian fellow one day.