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Season of the Witch: How the Occult Saved Rock and Roll
This epic cultural and historical odyssey unearths the full influence of occult traditions on rock and roll -- from the Beatles to Black Sabbath -- and shows how the marriage between mysticism and music changed our world.From the hoodoo-inspired sounds of Elvis Presley to the Eastern odysseys of George Harrison, from the dark dalliances of Led Zeppelin to the Masonic imagery of today’s hip-hop scene, the occult has long breathed life into rock and hip-hop—and, indeed, esoteric and supernatural traditions are a key ingredient behind the emergence and development of rock and roll. With vivid storytelling and laser-sharp analysis, writer and critic Peter Bebergal illuminates this web of influences to produce the definitive work on how the occult shaped -- and saved -- popular music.As Bebergal explains, occult and mystical ideals gave rock and roll its heart and purpose, making rock into more than just backbeat music, but into a cultural revolution of political, spiritual, sexual, and social liberation.
287 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 16, 2014
112 people are currently reading
2249 people want to read
About the author
Peter Bebergal
9 books71 followersPeter Bebergal is the author of Season of the Witch: How the Occult Saved Rock and Roll, Too Much to Dream: A Psychedelic American Boyhood and The Faith between Us: A Jew and a Catholic Search for the Meaning of God (with Scott Korb). He writes widely on music and books, with special emphasis on the speculative and slightly fringe. His recent essays and reviews have appeared in The Times Literary Supplement, The Quietus, BoingBoing, and The Believer. Bebergal studied religion and culture at Harvard Divinity School, and lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 133 reviews
February 1, 2015
Season of the witch? More like season of the warlock. This book celebrates a veritable sausage fest of males in rock associated w the occult and only gives the briefest mention of females that flirt with the dark arts, which I find puzzling considering there is hardly a shortage of material to draw from.
Beyond that, the book reads like an English 101 paper, skirting over most subjects with a page or two of miscellaneous insights but nothing particularly deep. Freshman academics at best. I was hoping for something more PhD level I guess. If you're going to be academic, be an academic. The ideas are brief and fragmented, tossed haphazardly on the page without much concern. Any of my former professors would have torn this work to shreds and handed it back to me with a lot of red ink if I had turned it in.
Also: Way too much time spent on Prog Rock. If anything can suck all of the fun out of a party, it's a musician yammering on about 666 in 9/8 time signature. I would much have preferred a page or two mention instead of an entire chapter - face it, deciphering Yes's album art is not as interesting as trying to figure out why Ozzy wears such a big crucifix. Don't get me wrong; I love Prog Rock, but I know better than to put on King Crimson when guests are coming over for our weekly séance.
All of those gripes aside, the subject matter itself is interesting enough - even the most boring, masculine-drenched and lazy academic work can't spoil the magic of rock itself. And there are some good moments in the book (Bowie in particular) where the writing becomes more passionate and less intellectual. More magical, I suppose.
Fortunately it's a quick read and is easy to digest. Fans of either subject will at least be able to find some things they like here, so it's worth picking up if you're into that sort of stuff. Just lower your expectations before you begin and you'll do fine.
Beyond that, the book reads like an English 101 paper, skirting over most subjects with a page or two of miscellaneous insights but nothing particularly deep. Freshman academics at best. I was hoping for something more PhD level I guess. If you're going to be academic, be an academic. The ideas are brief and fragmented, tossed haphazardly on the page without much concern. Any of my former professors would have torn this work to shreds and handed it back to me with a lot of red ink if I had turned it in.
Also: Way too much time spent on Prog Rock. If anything can suck all of the fun out of a party, it's a musician yammering on about 666 in 9/8 time signature. I would much have preferred a page or two mention instead of an entire chapter - face it, deciphering Yes's album art is not as interesting as trying to figure out why Ozzy wears such a big crucifix. Don't get me wrong; I love Prog Rock, but I know better than to put on King Crimson when guests are coming over for our weekly séance.
All of those gripes aside, the subject matter itself is interesting enough - even the most boring, masculine-drenched and lazy academic work can't spoil the magic of rock itself. And there are some good moments in the book (Bowie in particular) where the writing becomes more passionate and less intellectual. More magical, I suppose.
Fortunately it's a quick read and is easy to digest. Fans of either subject will at least be able to find some things they like here, so it's worth picking up if you're into that sort of stuff. Just lower your expectations before you begin and you'll do fine.
December 21, 2014
I really, really wanted to like this book. I went into it excited and ready for an informative and interesting read. I was very disappointed. First of all, the book made a cardinal sin for a book about rock and roll--it is dry and dull. I know some other readers did not feel this way, but I do not shy away from a scholarly book and this one is just dull. I feel like the author was more interested in showing off his education and verbal acrobatics than getting any information across. There is almost a tone of condescension here--(when Gerald Gardner is mentioned he feels the need to point out "Gardnerian witchcraft as opposed to Alexandrian withcraft" each time) as if you have forgotten from the first mention. I also did not learn anything new--I am not an expert on the occult but I do have a better than average knowledge and I expected that a book focusing just on the subject of rock and and the occult would have at least some stories and information that I had heard before. No such luck. I wish I could recommend it but I just can't.
January 22, 2020
Very superficial. There are no mentions of Stevie Nicks, no analysis of the things the author mentions, which are, let’s face it, tabloid fodder, no research into occult practices. This book could have been so much more.
June 3, 2024
Bebergal covers all things occult, psychedelic, punk, doom, pop, and heavy in and out of music for a compelling read including a small nod to the band Gandalf with their self-titled late ‘60’s album. An album I was lucky enough to land on Record Store Day 2024 on lemon grass colored vinyl.
Nice read that manages to cover the bases of Burroughs cut-ups to the Moog synthesizer.
Nice read that manages to cover the bases of Burroughs cut-ups to the Moog synthesizer.
April 9, 2019
If I was considering this book simply on the basis of how much I like the bands discussed in it, it would be five stars. Virtually every artist the writer mentions is a favorite of mine. But other than listing a lot of bands with interests outside of the mainstream, with tenuous connections to alternative spiritual practices or belief systems, there is little that satisfies its claim to be a description of how the occult saved rock & roll, or even to clearly define parameters for what we mean by occult. Anything other than mainstream Christianity?
I enjoyed reading about my favorite bands and reviewing well-trodden tales of their formation and inspiration, but the main reason I was disappointed with the book was the complete and appalling absence of any discussion of female musicians. We get about a half a sentence each for Siouxsie Sioux, the ladies of Heart and a sentence for Cosey Fanni Tutti, but how on earth did you make it through an entire book about the occult in rock without mentioning rock’s premier witchy woman, Stevie Nicks? Even if it is only through her look and song subjects, it seems a glaring omission in a book that attributes occult connections to everything from Robert Fripp to the Beatles. The lack of any attempt to include female musicians in general though is so distracting throughout this book that it became more and more frustrating as it advanced. As the threads tying together the “occult” theme become more and more tenuous (science fiction? Not really occult) it becomes more glaring that the book is assuming anything guys are inspired by outside the mainstream is occult. If we can talk about Madonna in this book, can we talk about Diamanda Galas? The witchy presence of Grace Slick? Anything?
Read it as a refresher on some favorite bands that will inspire you to have a 60s/70s listening party, or an introductory survey to cool music, but it doesn’t have a clear trajectory otherwise and suffers a bit from an extreme lack of diversity.
I enjoyed reading about my favorite bands and reviewing well-trodden tales of their formation and inspiration, but the main reason I was disappointed with the book was the complete and appalling absence of any discussion of female musicians. We get about a half a sentence each for Siouxsie Sioux, the ladies of Heart and a sentence for Cosey Fanni Tutti, but how on earth did you make it through an entire book about the occult in rock without mentioning rock’s premier witchy woman, Stevie Nicks? Even if it is only through her look and song subjects, it seems a glaring omission in a book that attributes occult connections to everything from Robert Fripp to the Beatles. The lack of any attempt to include female musicians in general though is so distracting throughout this book that it became more and more frustrating as it advanced. As the threads tying together the “occult” theme become more and more tenuous (science fiction? Not really occult) it becomes more glaring that the book is assuming anything guys are inspired by outside the mainstream is occult. If we can talk about Madonna in this book, can we talk about Diamanda Galas? The witchy presence of Grace Slick? Anything?
Read it as a refresher on some favorite bands that will inspire you to have a 60s/70s listening party, or an introductory survey to cool music, but it doesn’t have a clear trajectory otherwise and suffers a bit from an extreme lack of diversity.
March 30, 2019
Striking a refreshing balance between music-nerd effulgence and an actual historical look at the role of the occult and science fiction in 20th century rock might seem impossible, since it could slide easily into either some jargon-laden p0m0 space diarrhea or shocking mustache army-ism. Bebergal luckily succeeds. In fact, my early misgivings once I started reading this were quickly dispelled. I hate half the bands focused on in the bits on the 60s (sorry, The Beatles!), but I was still utterly fascinated.
My main worry was historical context, since there have been occult underpinnings in popular music all the way back to the Italian opera of the 17th century. Usually histories of rock ignore earlier roots, but you get plenty of it here, just in patches. In fact, my only one criticism of this work is twofold:
1) a more cohesive chronological focus, staring with, I dunno, the Late Middle Ages and end with, I dunno, Om or something.
2) make it about four times longer! This book is so good you'll wander out of it feeling short-changed. That's because it isn't just about the occult. The title is a little misleading. It is also about all the weird Eastern religious underpinnings, space rock, science fiction's influence on rock, horror's influence on rock and all kinds of other accretions you don't normally associate with the "occult". I would've read whole chapters on Sabbath, Bowie, and there could've been scads more on contemporary bands like Slayer, The Sword, Electric Wizard, and so on.
Highly recommended!
My main worry was historical context, since there have been occult underpinnings in popular music all the way back to the Italian opera of the 17th century. Usually histories of rock ignore earlier roots, but you get plenty of it here, just in patches. In fact, my only one criticism of this work is twofold:
1) a more cohesive chronological focus, staring with, I dunno, the Late Middle Ages and end with, I dunno, Om or something.
2) make it about four times longer! This book is so good you'll wander out of it feeling short-changed. That's because it isn't just about the occult. The title is a little misleading. It is also about all the weird Eastern religious underpinnings, space rock, science fiction's influence on rock, horror's influence on rock and all kinds of other accretions you don't normally associate with the "occult". I would've read whole chapters on Sabbath, Bowie, and there could've been scads more on contemporary bands like Slayer, The Sword, Electric Wizard, and so on.
Highly recommended!
November 11, 2014
I devoured this fascinating cultural history that traces the "occult imagination" in rock n' roll all the way from black spirituals and Robert Johnson's devil at the crossroads, up through the 60s / 70s / 80s / 90s / 00s and into its current manifestations in some of the most popular pop & hip-hop artists of today. Bebergal writes with authority and clarity, and the material never gets dry despite being exceptionally scholarly. This is a must-read for any music fan, and/or those interested in the occult.
January 16, 2015
What a drag! I really wanted to like this book after seeing it on NPR's site. However, the connections drawn between music and the occult were rather far-fetched and at times, strained. The author does make some interesting points but the book overall falls a little short for my taste.
June 5, 2025
Read this because I wanted more from the music chapter in Here’s to My Sweet Satan by George Case. Bebergal covers a lot of familiar ground—Jimmy Page buying Boleskine House, the Paul Is Dead theory, backmasking—but also branches out into less well-trodden territory. His connections between rock and the occult at times feel strained, more metaphor than analysis, and he makes some baffling omissions: as others have noted, Stevie “This Song Is About a Welsh Witch” Nicks shows up not even once, but more interestingly to me, metal as a genre gets surprisingly dismissive treatment, with the exception of Sunn O))). There are also occasions when his grasp on the esoteric seems loose, as when he discusses Crowley without even saying the word Thelema, and mischaracterizes the concept of will.
That said, there is also interesting information in this book, and I don’t regret reading it. I’m just glad that I came to it with existing—if not expert—knowledge of Western esotericism.
The time-capsule description of a 2013 Ghost concert and interview quotes near the end absolutely sent me. I wasn’t expecting them to show up, even though I wondered if they would!
That said, there is also interesting information in this book, and I don’t regret reading it. I’m just glad that I came to it with existing—if not expert—knowledge of Western esotericism.
The time-capsule description of a 2013 Ghost concert and interview quotes near the end absolutely sent me. I wasn’t expecting them to show up, even though I wondered if they would!
March 6, 2016
A solid if not startling sideways look at rock through the lens of esotericism and occultism. Bebergals's thesis is fairly simple and there is not a great deal that is very new here but it is generally well presented and there are some useful and well judged insights.
Bebergal does not over-hype the connection between the occult and rock. He wisely concentrates on it as an aspect of something else - as a broader expression of the dionysiac impulse and, in most cases, a stage through which young and talented men went in finding their way in the world.
He is not shy of pointing out where some personalities (such as Syd Barrett and David Bowie) slipped into mental health problems and where rock musicians adopted occultism largely as theatre without any strong belief because it fed the dionysiac impulses of their young audience.
Most of the examples come from the period betwen the Beatles' spiritual searching and the final demise of heavy-handed prog rock with a decent nod to the somewhat marginal recent revival of artistic occultism and the show biz use of its memes by some big 'stars'.
In retrospect, a lot of the occultism of the period looks like posturing but not all of it by any means. It is certainly good to see Berbergal give due credit to the creative importance of Arthur Brown (whom we saw at his own fascinating retrospective at the 100 Club last year).
As cultural history it is a worthwhile read but it reminds us that rock musicians are voices for the young and for themselves but are rarely great intellectuals. The artistic creativity of this period was still amazing though, even if it did end up its own orifice. The mid-1970s were time to call a halt.
The simplicities of punk rock and the pure show of new wave where the pretension was all in the style and not in the pretension itself were a breath of fresh air even if they too, like all creative enterprise in popular culture, became tired in their turn and the circus moved on.
There is a lot of seriously good music out there from many traditions nowadays but the days of global youth allegiances to what amount to ideologies drawn from the personal searchings and torments of rock gods seem to be over. Perhaps the fictional Vampire Lestat was the last of them.
The nature of the internet now means that there are show business performers who can play with occult memes like Jay-Z, Madonna or Kanye West but the young can also cherry pick from almost any historic mode to express their existential state. The musicians emerge to service them.
The long survival of various occult forms of heavy metal in itself proves the point much as does the happy decline of hippie sentiment to New Age musical padding. Everything is available, nothing is forbidden. Music has settled into its role as psychotherapy for adolescence and much later.
History may show that the 1960s and 1970s (despite the viciousness of church and parental fight-back) were mission-critical to creating the conditions for a saner and more healthy society all round. Certainly the young strike me today as more individuated than we were.
Music allowed a medium for emotional expression that may originally have been in the hands of an aristocracy - Bowie's flirting with fascism actually now seems a wholly appropriate reaction to the structures of power involved - but has now been radically democratised. This is good.
This is not a genie that can be put back into its lamp and neither should it be. This book acts as an intelligent foot-note to a world-historical phenomenon that we still inadequately understand as to its effects and meaning.
June 2, 2017
Meh.
In this book occult is a vague word. It means magic, Golden Dawn philosophy, theosophy, spacemen, satanism, acid trips, prog-rock and having a pyramid on your album cover. It seems anything can be occult as long as it's not a song about love. And even then that could be construed as some magical otherness that is now certifiably counter-culture and occult. My main complaint I guess is that every topic broached in this book is super duperficial, a passing mention with tenuous ties at best to some cloudy definition of occultness then on to the next barely connected example. Academic it is not. The whole thing seems to be a comment made in passing. I could have used an in depth primer on the history of occult thought and it's non-musical impact before reading that "Yes albums were occult, period."
On the potentially positive side, I am now listening to Yes and Hawkwind.
In this book occult is a vague word. It means magic, Golden Dawn philosophy, theosophy, spacemen, satanism, acid trips, prog-rock and having a pyramid on your album cover. It seems anything can be occult as long as it's not a song about love. And even then that could be construed as some magical otherness that is now certifiably counter-culture and occult. My main complaint I guess is that every topic broached in this book is super duperficial, a passing mention with tenuous ties at best to some cloudy definition of occultness then on to the next barely connected example. Academic it is not. The whole thing seems to be a comment made in passing. I could have used an in depth primer on the history of occult thought and it's non-musical impact before reading that "Yes albums were occult, period."
On the potentially positive side, I am now listening to Yes and Hawkwind.
October 17, 2022
Imagine writing this book and not mentioning a singular woman.
November 3, 2024
I really don’t like having to start book reviews on the negative side, but…
How the hell can you name your book ‘Season of the Witch’ and base/title it about how the occult saved rock and roll while discussing the 50’s - 80’s… and not even mention Stevie Nicks once, let alone barely any other women at all besides when they deny they don’t dabble in it?
The very few women that are mentioned in this book that have known esoteric/occult/etc connections either themselves or in their music such as Siouxsie Sioux or Joan Jett are given literal singular sentences that are throw-away or passive.
Yes, I understand that the title is based on the original Donovan song, and I understand that male and non-confirming folks can also be witches vs warlocks, wizards, etc… but really? Not even a sub-chapter besides Madonna’s 2011 superbowl performance and a passing mention of her practicing Kabbalah in one of the last chapters of the book…?
It would be offensive if it wasn’t such a laughable oversight, which honestly makes me wonder if it was just ignorance or purposeful because it does dabble quite hard into machismo and male sexuality in terms of occult practices. While they may not have been as outward as their male peers, there is certainly no lack of source material for researching femme musicians and their dabbling into magic or the occult. …especially considering that the author seems to consider anything non-christian as occult or occult-adjacent, which opens up the opportunities even more.
Despite hitting this so hard, I’m actually pretty conflicted on how I feel about the book. The first half is focused on the origins of rock, including mentioning that rock was birthed from the blues, which was a child of slave songs. Not a lot of people are willing to go into those details, especially so well researched and the author didn’t pull punches when calling out racism in the industry. I ultimately wish that the focus would have stayed on the 60’s - 70’s past that point because the explanations were good and well-researched, even if only scratching the surface with some musicians [aka - mostly Bowie.]
Additionally, the knowledge and mentioning of the occult in this book is… superficial, which is the nicest, tidiest way of describing it. I’m no expert either, and I do understand that if the author were to actually dig into the depths of what he was describing, the book would be well beyond 230ish pages. I also don’t agree with what I mentioned before that it seems the author believes that anything non-christian is automatically occult/adjacent, which, no… and also there’s plenty of occultism in christianity, too.
I ultimately wonder if the reason I liked the first half of the book so much was merely because it’s a subject matter that I enjoy as well as the musicians mentioned. I was hooked pretty quick, only to realize that I was over halfway into the book and not a single woman had really been mentioned, and that some of the various occult-based subjects he was bringing up weren’t really given the proper context needed… and also he seeming to have an obsession with the Order of the Golden Dawn/Crowley [granted a lot of musicians did as well.]
I also felt that though Bowie essentially got his own chapter… there is so much more about Bowie’s ties to the occult that could have been gone into. [though likely that can be a whole book in itself.]
Also… if I were to read another description of ‘sugary’ pop, ‘sugar’ pop, or ‘bubble-gum’ pop… I think one of my eyes would have popped.
Ultimately, as already mentioned… I’m conflicted. There’s a lot of entertainment here and definitely some good stuff that I think baseline interested people could appreciate… but at the same time they’re missing out on so, so much. I will say though… there’s some banger quotes, at least. [as will see below]
I give Season of the Witch 3/5 guitars set aflame
I came to realize that magic cannot exist without a conduit, a means of expression. And even if i can, I am not interested in the metaphysics of the occult. I believe in those horned gods only when I hear them speaking from out of the grooves in the vinyl, from the shiny surface of a CD, and even in the sonic reduction of the MP3. And in those moments they are as real as the music itself. I don’t need the magic to be anywhere else. It exists as the most potent spell in the awesome spectacle of rock and roll.
---
But even when rock was put toward Christian worship, adults were hesitant to accept it as anything more than a Pagan virus.
---
In 1969, Andrew Greeley, a Roman Catholic priest who moonlighted as a reporter for the New York Times, had enough material for a full-length piece on the new religions found on college campuses, offering up examples of the student-run-occult-guerrilla group WITCH (women’s international terrorist conspiracy from hell), a coven of warlocks, courses on astrology and zen, and the best and brightest at MIT meditating, casting the I Ching, and tripping on chem-lab acid.
[Okay where can I find this W.I.T.C.H group?]
---
Bowie used glamor - both in the fashion and magical senses - to convert rock audiences into accepting a bisexual and binary sense of self. This was not simply the androgynous sexuality of someone like Jagger. Bowie’s sexual self is a method of transgression illuminating something universally and perhaps subconsciously human.
---
Coil’s first single, the 1984 ‘how to destroy angels’ [a title Trent Reznor of NIN would borrow as the name of his side band] was packaged with a wordy description of the music that begins; ‘ritual music for the accumulation of male sexual energy.’
[Anyone familiar with NIN's discography wouldn't be surprised by this title swipe. Those first few albums could have the tagline of: 'Trent, what woman hurt you and is this what you're doing instead of therapy?]
---
Nevertheless, Killing Joke’s reputation as heralds of a rock apocalypse would continue to precede them, and rightly so.
[... Not to be confused with... a metalocalypse. {ding dong doodily doodily doo}]
---
Goth’s aesthetic is more like the tragic beauty of the Victorian era’s memento mori. Even goth’s embrace of death is not about gore, but about the melancholy loneliness of the graveyard, crumbling ancient tombstones, and sometimes, vampires.
---
What we now call civilization, often driven by the massive force known as Christianity, buried these ancient peoples and their scientific wonders.
---
This is the alchemy of rock and roll; where the songs, lyrics, art, and even the band’s logo can become a whole experience that you can hold in your hands when you hold an album.
---
Heavy metal music may sound like irritating noise, but its lyrics ‘glorify the power of evil’ and the child who sits in his room brooding over the lyrics may display an unhealthy preoccupation.
[\m/]
---
Sleep, the ascended masters of a genre known as ‘stoner rock/metal,’ play a kind of low, slow metal, simmering with a psychedelic vibe perfectly matched for a listener whose brain is cooked on marijuana. (Their masterpiece is the single hour-long song ‘Dopesmoker,’ a mythical fantasy tale where ‘weed priests creedsman chant the rite.’)
---
By the end of the 1990’s, heavy metal, in all of its permutations - death, dark, doom, to name a few - had dug a direct route into the underworld. It became the soundtrack to our deepest fears, a symphony of horrors for musicians to explore and cultivate.
---
In almost every aspect of rock and popular music, the occult’s influence can be felt. If you make enough noise, no matter your instrument, you can keep the old gods alive forever.
How the hell can you name your book ‘Season of the Witch’ and base/title it about how the occult saved rock and roll while discussing the 50’s - 80’s… and not even mention Stevie Nicks once, let alone barely any other women at all besides when they deny they don’t dabble in it?
The very few women that are mentioned in this book that have known esoteric/occult/etc connections either themselves or in their music such as Siouxsie Sioux or Joan Jett are given literal singular sentences that are throw-away or passive.
Yes, I understand that the title is based on the original Donovan song, and I understand that male and non-confirming folks can also be witches vs warlocks, wizards, etc… but really? Not even a sub-chapter besides Madonna’s 2011 superbowl performance and a passing mention of her practicing Kabbalah in one of the last chapters of the book…?
It would be offensive if it wasn’t such a laughable oversight, which honestly makes me wonder if it was just ignorance or purposeful because it does dabble quite hard into machismo and male sexuality in terms of occult practices. While they may not have been as outward as their male peers, there is certainly no lack of source material for researching femme musicians and their dabbling into magic or the occult. …especially considering that the author seems to consider anything non-christian as occult or occult-adjacent, which opens up the opportunities even more.
Despite hitting this so hard, I’m actually pretty conflicted on how I feel about the book. The first half is focused on the origins of rock, including mentioning that rock was birthed from the blues, which was a child of slave songs. Not a lot of people are willing to go into those details, especially so well researched and the author didn’t pull punches when calling out racism in the industry. I ultimately wish that the focus would have stayed on the 60’s - 70’s past that point because the explanations were good and well-researched, even if only scratching the surface with some musicians [aka - mostly Bowie.]
Additionally, the knowledge and mentioning of the occult in this book is… superficial, which is the nicest, tidiest way of describing it. I’m no expert either, and I do understand that if the author were to actually dig into the depths of what he was describing, the book would be well beyond 230ish pages. I also don’t agree with what I mentioned before that it seems the author believes that anything non-christian is automatically occult/adjacent, which, no… and also there’s plenty of occultism in christianity, too.
I ultimately wonder if the reason I liked the first half of the book so much was merely because it’s a subject matter that I enjoy as well as the musicians mentioned. I was hooked pretty quick, only to realize that I was over halfway into the book and not a single woman had really been mentioned, and that some of the various occult-based subjects he was bringing up weren’t really given the proper context needed… and also he seeming to have an obsession with the Order of the Golden Dawn/Crowley [granted a lot of musicians did as well.]
I also felt that though Bowie essentially got his own chapter… there is so much more about Bowie’s ties to the occult that could have been gone into. [though likely that can be a whole book in itself.]
Also… if I were to read another description of ‘sugary’ pop, ‘sugar’ pop, or ‘bubble-gum’ pop… I think one of my eyes would have popped.
Ultimately, as already mentioned… I’m conflicted. There’s a lot of entertainment here and definitely some good stuff that I think baseline interested people could appreciate… but at the same time they’re missing out on so, so much. I will say though… there’s some banger quotes, at least. [as will see below]
I give Season of the Witch 3/5 guitars set aflame
I came to realize that magic cannot exist without a conduit, a means of expression. And even if i can, I am not interested in the metaphysics of the occult. I believe in those horned gods only when I hear them speaking from out of the grooves in the vinyl, from the shiny surface of a CD, and even in the sonic reduction of the MP3. And in those moments they are as real as the music itself. I don’t need the magic to be anywhere else. It exists as the most potent spell in the awesome spectacle of rock and roll.
---
But even when rock was put toward Christian worship, adults were hesitant to accept it as anything more than a Pagan virus.
---
In 1969, Andrew Greeley, a Roman Catholic priest who moonlighted as a reporter for the New York Times, had enough material for a full-length piece on the new religions found on college campuses, offering up examples of the student-run-occult-guerrilla group WITCH (women’s international terrorist conspiracy from hell), a coven of warlocks, courses on astrology and zen, and the best and brightest at MIT meditating, casting the I Ching, and tripping on chem-lab acid.
[Okay where can I find this W.I.T.C.H group?]
---
Bowie used glamor - both in the fashion and magical senses - to convert rock audiences into accepting a bisexual and binary sense of self. This was not simply the androgynous sexuality of someone like Jagger. Bowie’s sexual self is a method of transgression illuminating something universally and perhaps subconsciously human.
---
Coil’s first single, the 1984 ‘how to destroy angels’ [a title Trent Reznor of NIN would borrow as the name of his side band] was packaged with a wordy description of the music that begins; ‘ritual music for the accumulation of male sexual energy.’
[Anyone familiar with NIN's discography wouldn't be surprised by this title swipe. Those first few albums could have the tagline of: 'Trent, what woman hurt you and is this what you're doing instead of therapy?]
---
Nevertheless, Killing Joke’s reputation as heralds of a rock apocalypse would continue to precede them, and rightly so.
[... Not to be confused with... a metalocalypse. {ding dong doodily doodily doo}]
---
Goth’s aesthetic is more like the tragic beauty of the Victorian era’s memento mori. Even goth’s embrace of death is not about gore, but about the melancholy loneliness of the graveyard, crumbling ancient tombstones, and sometimes, vampires.
---
What we now call civilization, often driven by the massive force known as Christianity, buried these ancient peoples and their scientific wonders.
---
This is the alchemy of rock and roll; where the songs, lyrics, art, and even the band’s logo can become a whole experience that you can hold in your hands when you hold an album.
---
Heavy metal music may sound like irritating noise, but its lyrics ‘glorify the power of evil’ and the child who sits in his room brooding over the lyrics may display an unhealthy preoccupation.
[\m/]
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Sleep, the ascended masters of a genre known as ‘stoner rock/metal,’ play a kind of low, slow metal, simmering with a psychedelic vibe perfectly matched for a listener whose brain is cooked on marijuana. (Their masterpiece is the single hour-long song ‘Dopesmoker,’ a mythical fantasy tale where ‘weed priests creedsman chant the rite.’)
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By the end of the 1990’s, heavy metal, in all of its permutations - death, dark, doom, to name a few - had dug a direct route into the underworld. It became the soundtrack to our deepest fears, a symphony of horrors for musicians to explore and cultivate.
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In almost every aspect of rock and popular music, the occult’s influence can be felt. If you make enough noise, no matter your instrument, you can keep the old gods alive forever.
April 2, 2022
Season of the Witch is a scattered collection of essays and factoids that fails to come together; it feels like a 5 page term paper that's been expanded to 10 pages, circling around its points again and again.
The first chapter opens with promise, on the link between rhythm and blues as an African-American musical form and the reinterpretation of African religions under slavery. Rumors that talented musicians made a dark pact with Legba, syncretized with Satan, dogged the early blues. When white people took over the music in the 1950s, rock and roll became a new Dionysian rite. Rock and roll was about teenagers having sex, anathema to the conservative culture of the times.
The story than skips a beat between Elvis and the Beatles, those years a wasteland of pop nonsense in Bebergal's read. The Beatles used their status as new-found celebrities to promote transcendental meditation. Meanwhile, Led Zeppelin was off writing songs about hobbits and heroic quests, while getting into Crowley and magick.
If anything can be gleaned from this mess of a book, it's that the 60s counter-culture tried out many alternatives to conventional mainstream Christian/scientific thought, whipping up a blend of Eastern religious traditions, psychedelic exploration via LSD, a Western magical tradition mostly grounded in Theosophy, and speculative literature about both wizards and spaceships to create a show that was part of ecstatic rite, part esoteric community, and part commercial venture.
But the subtitle is "how the occult saved rock and roll", and from my vantage, the occult mostly inspired talented musicians to make long, boring, elaborate prog concept albums. Rock is more than a 3 minute song you can dance to, but a triple album about some D&D campaign is worse than danceable pap about how your baby makes you feel.
This reads like a rehash of other books, and fails to prove its thesis to boot. At least it's short.
The first chapter opens with promise, on the link between rhythm and blues as an African-American musical form and the reinterpretation of African religions under slavery. Rumors that talented musicians made a dark pact with Legba, syncretized with Satan, dogged the early blues. When white people took over the music in the 1950s, rock and roll became a new Dionysian rite. Rock and roll was about teenagers having sex, anathema to the conservative culture of the times.
The story than skips a beat between Elvis and the Beatles, those years a wasteland of pop nonsense in Bebergal's read. The Beatles used their status as new-found celebrities to promote transcendental meditation. Meanwhile, Led Zeppelin was off writing songs about hobbits and heroic quests, while getting into Crowley and magick.
If anything can be gleaned from this mess of a book, it's that the 60s counter-culture tried out many alternatives to conventional mainstream Christian/scientific thought, whipping up a blend of Eastern religious traditions, psychedelic exploration via LSD, a Western magical tradition mostly grounded in Theosophy, and speculative literature about both wizards and spaceships to create a show that was part of ecstatic rite, part esoteric community, and part commercial venture.
But the subtitle is "how the occult saved rock and roll", and from my vantage, the occult mostly inspired talented musicians to make long, boring, elaborate prog concept albums. Rock is more than a 3 minute song you can dance to, but a triple album about some D&D campaign is worse than danceable pap about how your baby makes you feel.
This reads like a rehash of other books, and fails to prove its thesis to boot. At least it's short.
March 23, 2018
This book was a nice contrast to the Bob Larson book I read last year, this one being a positive viewpoint on the impact of occult subjects in rock music, Larson's book being a screed against all the evils of rock. I personally have no use for actual belief in the occult, but I do love the mystery, the symbolism, and imaginative aspects. And when it is leveraged to make great albums, Love's Secret Domain by Coil for example, I embrace the music even while I look askance at the artists who appear to be a little too convinced of their own bullshit. This book was an enjoyable overview of the subject, tracing the threads of occult influence through decades of music from blues, to psychedelic, glam, progressive, experimental, electronic, heavy metal, industrial, goth, and hip-hop. The author touches on classical and modern composers and how they influenced the progression as well. I would have liked the book to go into more depth.
May 30, 2017
A quick overview of the occult in music. I have read meatier tomes on the subject, but this one was still an enjoyable read. A nice overview on the earlier instances and references and actually talks briefly about Jay-Z and Madonna, which many books on the subject matter don't usually include. If one wants the more modern examples including many genres of metal including (but not limited to) Black Metal, read elsewhere. Just a mention within the book, but the book states its intentions right off the bat.
March 25, 2017
The book begins with 1950s squares accusing rock of being the devil's music, then becomes a survey of various rock performers' occult pretensions. The twee paganism of psychedelia, the cornball satanism of heavy metal, the new age inflected gobbledygook of prog... it's all in there. Alas, the workmanlike prose lacks the wit and flair that could have made the account fun rather than functional.
Read
October 6, 2020while this is a pretty good introductory overview of the ties between the occult and rock & roll through the ages, i’ll echo others by noting the complete lack of women and non-binary musicians mentioned. also, the use of the phrase “transgendered themes” to describe bowie’s work just doesn’t sit right with me folks!!
August 29, 2023
Well-written and well researched. The first part of the book felt like pretty familiar territory as a Class 1 Rock Dude. As things move into the '80s there is a fair amount of deeply weird occult hihinx happening in music and I think the book explores some ideas and connects the dots on a few things beyond the usual zep/beatles/stones brouhahas.
July 19, 2017
somewhat meandering, but overall exactly what I was hoping for with this book.
October 25, 2023
Really good and interesting. Mostly involved with the early stages of rock and spends almost no time mentioning black metal and the occult but does mention it. Surprised Interesting to see how the Satanic Panics have formed throughout the years and how it all amounted to nothing for the worriers and was very lucrative for the performers. Liked hearing about Genesis P Orridge but there was almost no mention of other women aside from a small passage about Madonna and a passing comment about Siouxsie and the Banshees’ style changing over time. I feel like there could have been a considerable amount of time spent on Stevie Nicks or Mayhem or other acts but was mostly and ode to Led Zeppelin and The Beatles and Black Sabbath which is understandable. Still very interesting book. Would recommend.
September 8, 2022
It started off fairly interesting and thought-provoking, but quickly turned into a snoozefest. It's hard not to write a biased book about journaling music, but the choices that Peter Bebergal included here were rather limited. In addition, it wasn't entirely clear how exactly the occult saved rock and roll, just from reading this book.
July 28, 2022
For a long time, the standard response I've observed among blue checkmark journo types when anyone draws a connection, or specifically, a negative connotation, to popular music's overt glorification and glamorization of the occult is to handwave it away with a condescending chuckle. Or perhaps it will take the form of the standard gaslighting disguised as debunking. Or "fact checking" as it's known in contemporary wokespeak. These rebuttals are usually along the lines of "conspiracy theorists who draw any connection between the occult and rock music are simply regurgitating debunked satanic panic hysteria." Case closed, religious freaks. Now shut it.
In the cases when the artist is openly admitting an engagement with occult beliefs, it's treated with either obsequious deference, or more bewilderingly, with total indifference. As though it's just another odd, yet totally benign and misunderstood, accessory to the celebrity persona. Celebrities carving up cakes shaped like humans gets laughed off as yet another weird escapade. Once upon a time, rock provoked paroxysms of Christian outrage, but these are quaint memories now. Charlie XCX can portray an occult blood sacrifice ritual in a pop video and the only people who will talk about it will just get banned from Twitter for spreading "misinformation".
With the advent of Peter Bebergal's 2014 book, Season of the Witch, in which he traces the explicit interconnectedness of the occult and rock music, we may be witnessing the next stage of the public dialectic. In other words, we may be shifting away from "there is no evidence of an alliance between rock and the occult" to "rock and the occult are inextricably linked and here's why that's a good thing".
What I especially appreciate about Season of the Witch is that Bebergal's book is a confirmation of what "conspiracy theorists" and Christians have been saying for years. It's probably not what he intended, but this book is a vindication and worthy companion to Dave McGowan's Weird Scenes Inside the Canyon. Where McGowan set out to lay down a counter-narrative to the glowing mythology of Laurel Canyon, Bebergal provides a substantial ballast to McGowan's thesis of widespread occult influence in the rock firmament.
Rock and roll is an occult, specifically, a Satanic project. Rock is not just entertainment. It's the transmission medium for a spiritual worldview. All of its key movers have either projected their occult inspiration in explicit ways, layered them in abstract obscurantism or played coy games with the media. When "conspiracy theorists" would decode them, they'd be subjected to the customary scornful condescension of the secular intelligentsia. Which includes Bebergal himself in this book.
Because Bebergal's book is a fawning apologetic for the rock/occult connection, it is accorded the praise that comes with being a mouthpiece for the power elite. That's not to say the praise is unwarranted. The book is well written and informative. Because it's an apologetic, I want to point out what I contend are glaring inconsistencies, dubious claims, curious omissions, and blatant contradictions.
Every good narrative has a hero and a villain, and Bebergal's villain throughout the book is Christianity. This is expected and, if anything, serves as a affirmation of the underlying reality of Christianity. If Christianity is just some delusional appeal to a mythical sky daddy that shamelessly appropriated early forms of paganism, there'd be no reason to rebel against it. Rock and roll could simply call itself a restoration of the early pre-Christian forms of paganism that Christianity uprooted and absorbed. Yet, that not what Bebergal is doing.
Above all else, the failure of his entire thesis centers on this core question. Does rock derive its energy exclusively from an occultic rebellion against Christianity or is it a return to the true traditions that preceded Christianity? If it's the former, he has inadvertently affirmed the fundamental truth of Christianity. Rock only exists to be a vessel for Satan's unquenchable hatred for both humanity and Christ. It has no underlying affirmation of anything. It is merely a seething pit of nihilism and decadence flailing at the void while pretending to offer a genuine "connection to the divine" which Bebergal alleges.
Bebergal's central narrative fails for another reason. Bebergal presents the Christian opposition to rock as a united monolith while appealing to its most strident and ridiculous voices as binding, authoritative, and representative of all American Christianity. Naturally, Bebergal is intent on portraying Christians as joyless buzzkills, regressive dolts, and uptight authoritarians. That's not to say that his claims of Christian opposition are false or even that his portrayal of the various opponents is wrong, but rather that it ignores the differences in paradigms amongst Christians, Orthodoxy in particular, and it conveniently sidesteps several moral issues that he wants you to take as a given.
When Bebergal bemoans the Christian opposition to rock, he claims "churches appeared to hate rock, hate sex and love war (p. 74)." I'm sure that's how it appeared amongst Catholics and Protestants, but it betrays either willful obliviousness to the Christian opposition to the occult revolution or a disingenuous straw man in order to advance an already tiresome narrative. Bebergal concedes that rock is a transmission vessel for an occult worldview. As a secular critic, it's not something he's likely to appreciate or respect, but, as he repeatedly affirms throughout the book, rock is an open rebellion against the Christian paradigm. Rock doesn't care about pissing off Muslims, Scientologists, or Buddhists when it rails about "religion". Christianity has always been its primary target. That's always been part of the appeal. Whether it was sincere or controlled opposition, Christians, and even notable secular liberals, took the bait and rock always came out looking like the beleaguered underdog fighting against an ossified and clueless establishment.
The standard move for every establishment apologist is to present his subject in heroic opposition to the prevailing religious authorities who were trying desperately to demonize, derail and suppress this new and vital form of expression. Bebergal follows this formula to a T.
It's difficult to discern whether Bebergal's misapprehension of Christianity is willfully dishonest or simply oblivious. What's particularly laughable is the point at which Bebergal audaciously asserts that "the rebellious spirit of rock was not unlike the one Jesus brought to the money changers at the temple" (p. 23). So is Christianity really a revolutionary faith and Christians got it wrong or is it an engine of oppression that tried in vain to vanquish the spirit it allegedly embodied? And we're to take Bebergal, a nonbeliever and critic of Christianity throughout the book, as the definitive authority of the faith?
Predictably, Bebergal doesn't just sugarcoat any potential downside to this rock/occult connection, he seems willfully intent to either ignore or downplay any depravity, criminality or moral degradation. More predictably, he seems willfully incurious to explore beyond the veneer of mystique and detached rationalism that he has cultivated throughout the book. If artists' occult fascinations are inspiring them to incorporate fascistic images, songs about serial killers and sexual deviance, relax. It's definitely not that bad.
The subtitle of the book is How the Occult Saved Rock and Roll. While his narrative certainly does an adequate job of backing up the general thesis that the "occult imagination" animated the spirit of rock, Bebergal is cowardly in his defense of the occult. Not only does he refuse to confess any truth value to the occult paradigm, he seems either oblivious or indifferent to the cost to both artists and the culture at large.
He seems content to peddle a simplistic narrative of a rebellious cultural battering ram that shook a predominantly white, middle class culture out of its postwar doldrums and ushered in a new era of sexual freedom and drug experimentation. By default, Bebergal has put himself in the position of defending both the drug culture, the war on drugs, the sexual revolution and the entire sex work industry as net positives for society. If you're going to sound the trumpet of liberation, you better be prepared to defend the consequences of this alleged liberation for the culture.
What has rock done to redress the economic inequalities or the resolve the military conflicts throughout the world? What have rockers done besides regurgitate the establishment approved slogans du jour while racking up millions in their bank accounts? This entire line of complaint of middle class dissatisfaction with the "status quo" Bebergal indulges seems especially toothless and empty in 2022. When the Foo Fighters, a band with occult proclivities of their own, perform for Joe Biden's inauguration it's time to recognize that rock is an approved tool by the global power structure.
Bebergal makes repeated references to rock's libidinous energy and its affirmation of sexual freedom. But is sexual liberation a noble achievement beyond it being fun and pleasurable? If sex is going to be recreational and its sacred function stripped away, why should we take any of the #MeToo posturing seriously? Rebellion and secular Puritanism are mutually exclusive positions. If you're going to destroy Christian moral foundations, you have no grounds to whine about the consequences.
What's most tiresome and boring is hearing Bebergal prattle away about the pernicious omnipresence of "racism" amongst the white, Christian detractors of rock. At this point, nothing could be more vacuous than hearing a secular progressive pontificate on the evils of racism. Especially when inserted into the pages of 200 page apologetic for the occult. What moral system are you appealing to? If rock was this liberating force that freed people from the shackles of Christian morality and middle class ennui, then what business do you have whining about "racism"?
This unstable conjunction of the spirit of rebellion with this would-be secular Puritanism that attempts to chalk up every moral evil to the omnipresence of "racism" is by far the stupidest commentary in the book. Social media is overflowing with pampered rock and pop stars blathering away about "racism" 24/7. The onus lies with Bebergal to demonstrate that this occult inspired moral grandstanding is actually achieving something other than fattening the bank accounts of people who already have too much money and fame while perpetuating the delusion that whining on social media is useful for society.
Like everyone else in the secular sphere, he wants to have his cake and eat it too. He wants to praise rock and roll's transgression and spirit of rebellion while engaging in moral grandstanding about "racism", war and economic inequalities. He wants to expose the opponents of rock as authoritarian hypocrites while ignoring the consequences the degradation, dissolution and decay wrought by the cultural revolution rock ushered in. He wants to praise the "occult imagination" while ignoring the lives it claimed among artists and fans. He is sympathetic to the contemporary occult/New Age notion that "Heaven is here" and that an earthy utopia awaits us if we attend enough rock concerts, take acid and bemoan "war and racism" on social media but wants to ignore the utter failure of the counterculture. He wants to praise the mind expanding properties of LSD while ignoring the victims and the known role of the CIA in mainstreaming this drug as well as its usage in the military's MK Ultra programs.
Most predictably, he seems all too willing to extend the utmost credulity to rockers who claim that their occult fascinations are purely abstract and in service of heightened publicity. Oh, don't you worry. These people are the enlightened cosmopolitans they portray themselves. They're not the blood drinking degenerates the Christians claim. At every point, Bebergal is unwavering in his conviction that the Christian "conspiracy theorists" got it wrong, and the truth is far more "nuanced". Again, Bebergal wants to have his cake and eat it too. He refuses to acknowledge any truth value to the occult worldview, yet claim simultaneously that Christians are wrong. In one instance, he lauds the occult as a quest for something more "authentic", the next, it's just a commercial ploy and there's "no final word" and "no final wisdom".
Bebergal is always able to sweep anything unseemly under the rug. Somehow, the fascistic overtones to Blavatsky are simply misappropriated by racists. Bowie's Thin White Duke persona can be explained away despite his open admission that he wants "to rule the world". The antics of Throbbing Gristle are just harmless provocations. The occult and Aleister Crowley's views are "indefinable". If there's "no final wisdom", Bebergal has no grounds to dismiss any of the outcomes he doesn't like or don't fit his ideological narrative as a misunderstanding or an inaccurate manifestation of occult beliefs.
It's not as though there's a historical record of occult writings or actual historical accounts that we can reference to gain insight into these mysterious people and their belief systems. Oh no. It's just a big enigma that we can't really pin down. It's not as though artists who are engaged in occultism appropriate fascistic images, glorify every manner of deviant sexuality, profess an intention to "change consciousness" and the culture, openly profess a hostility to Christianity, and set themselves up as "gods", but those Christians and "conspiracy theorists" can't possibly be right about any of it. Give me a break.
Despite his weak concession to "conspiracy theorists" near the end of the book, it hardly cancels his cavalier dismissals throughout.
Why should we accord credibility to his "nuanced" view of the inspiration behind the cover art to Houses of the Holy when Arthur C. Clarke's own associations with the occult are known? Why should we assume a more banal interpretation of the sigils on Led Zeppelin IV when Dave Grohl is on record saying he performed a seance using the Bonham sigil? Why should we just believe Bebergal's speculation that Black Sabbath were just fooling around with Tarot cards? Why is it that Dave Brock's megalomaniacal admission that Hawkwind was "setting themselves up as God" gets a free pass? Why do "conspiracy theorists" get the rote dismissal when it comes to global superstars like Madonna and Jay-Z when they pal around with Marina Abramovic and parrot every establishment approved politician and issue? Why does Bebergal devote only a few sentences to the murders and atrocities committed in the 90's Scandinavian black metal scene with the most half-hearted admission that "it all went to far" only to immediately pivot to the more genteel occult proclivities of Sunn O)))? Why does he ignore the tacit support Charles Manson got from The Beach Boys and other Laurel Canyon luminaries? Is this stuff dangerous or is it to be lauded because it's a "threat" to the establishment? Why are we to assume egotism and vainglory when pampered establishment shills like Beyonce, Madonna and Katy Perry march in lockstep with the global elite?
If it's simultaneously just a publicity stunt while still being aimed at "changing the culture", why should we embrace the change as an overall good? Especially when its practitioners openly arrogate the status of godhood.
Most importantly, if all of this is as nuanced as Bebergal alleges, why should we believe that his interpretation on anything is correct? Saying "it's difficult to image" that the band enjoyed the darkest speculations of fans and detractors isn't a compelling reason to accept the banal and anodyne.
Bebergal seems to believe that these various nuances within the occult are actually meaningful. Just because John Balance dismissed the Church of Satan as "Hollywood", that means that his occult beliefs are ...more sophisticated? More acceptable?
The occult is not a "threat" to the establishment as Bebergal alleges. If anything, the establishment sanctions and encourages occult beliefs. The pervasiveness of both occult beliefs and the global dominance of rock music attest to this fact. There is nothing subversive or contrarian about a belief in the occult or the appropriation of occultic symbols in a rock act. It's a tiresome cliché.
The occult revolution was and is about changing the culture. It has always been about displacing and undermining the Christian paradigm. It has been remarkably successful in this endeavor. The only question that remains is this. If rock and roll is all about bringing about a "new consciousness", is Bebergal certain that it's a paradigm he wants to build a society around?
In the cases when the artist is openly admitting an engagement with occult beliefs, it's treated with either obsequious deference, or more bewilderingly, with total indifference. As though it's just another odd, yet totally benign and misunderstood, accessory to the celebrity persona. Celebrities carving up cakes shaped like humans gets laughed off as yet another weird escapade. Once upon a time, rock provoked paroxysms of Christian outrage, but these are quaint memories now. Charlie XCX can portray an occult blood sacrifice ritual in a pop video and the only people who will talk about it will just get banned from Twitter for spreading "misinformation".
With the advent of Peter Bebergal's 2014 book, Season of the Witch, in which he traces the explicit interconnectedness of the occult and rock music, we may be witnessing the next stage of the public dialectic. In other words, we may be shifting away from "there is no evidence of an alliance between rock and the occult" to "rock and the occult are inextricably linked and here's why that's a good thing".
What I especially appreciate about Season of the Witch is that Bebergal's book is a confirmation of what "conspiracy theorists" and Christians have been saying for years. It's probably not what he intended, but this book is a vindication and worthy companion to Dave McGowan's Weird Scenes Inside the Canyon. Where McGowan set out to lay down a counter-narrative to the glowing mythology of Laurel Canyon, Bebergal provides a substantial ballast to McGowan's thesis of widespread occult influence in the rock firmament.
Rock and roll is an occult, specifically, a Satanic project. Rock is not just entertainment. It's the transmission medium for a spiritual worldview. All of its key movers have either projected their occult inspiration in explicit ways, layered them in abstract obscurantism or played coy games with the media. When "conspiracy theorists" would decode them, they'd be subjected to the customary scornful condescension of the secular intelligentsia. Which includes Bebergal himself in this book.
Because Bebergal's book is a fawning apologetic for the rock/occult connection, it is accorded the praise that comes with being a mouthpiece for the power elite. That's not to say the praise is unwarranted. The book is well written and informative. Because it's an apologetic, I want to point out what I contend are glaring inconsistencies, dubious claims, curious omissions, and blatant contradictions.
Every good narrative has a hero and a villain, and Bebergal's villain throughout the book is Christianity. This is expected and, if anything, serves as a affirmation of the underlying reality of Christianity. If Christianity is just some delusional appeal to a mythical sky daddy that shamelessly appropriated early forms of paganism, there'd be no reason to rebel against it. Rock and roll could simply call itself a restoration of the early pre-Christian forms of paganism that Christianity uprooted and absorbed. Yet, that not what Bebergal is doing.
Above all else, the failure of his entire thesis centers on this core question. Does rock derive its energy exclusively from an occultic rebellion against Christianity or is it a return to the true traditions that preceded Christianity? If it's the former, he has inadvertently affirmed the fundamental truth of Christianity. Rock only exists to be a vessel for Satan's unquenchable hatred for both humanity and Christ. It has no underlying affirmation of anything. It is merely a seething pit of nihilism and decadence flailing at the void while pretending to offer a genuine "connection to the divine" which Bebergal alleges.
Bebergal's central narrative fails for another reason. Bebergal presents the Christian opposition to rock as a united monolith while appealing to its most strident and ridiculous voices as binding, authoritative, and representative of all American Christianity. Naturally, Bebergal is intent on portraying Christians as joyless buzzkills, regressive dolts, and uptight authoritarians. That's not to say that his claims of Christian opposition are false or even that his portrayal of the various opponents is wrong, but rather that it ignores the differences in paradigms amongst Christians, Orthodoxy in particular, and it conveniently sidesteps several moral issues that he wants you to take as a given.
When Bebergal bemoans the Christian opposition to rock, he claims "churches appeared to hate rock, hate sex and love war (p. 74)." I'm sure that's how it appeared amongst Catholics and Protestants, but it betrays either willful obliviousness to the Christian opposition to the occult revolution or a disingenuous straw man in order to advance an already tiresome narrative. Bebergal concedes that rock is a transmission vessel for an occult worldview. As a secular critic, it's not something he's likely to appreciate or respect, but, as he repeatedly affirms throughout the book, rock is an open rebellion against the Christian paradigm. Rock doesn't care about pissing off Muslims, Scientologists, or Buddhists when it rails about "religion". Christianity has always been its primary target. That's always been part of the appeal. Whether it was sincere or controlled opposition, Christians, and even notable secular liberals, took the bait and rock always came out looking like the beleaguered underdog fighting against an ossified and clueless establishment.
The standard move for every establishment apologist is to present his subject in heroic opposition to the prevailing religious authorities who were trying desperately to demonize, derail and suppress this new and vital form of expression. Bebergal follows this formula to a T.
It's difficult to discern whether Bebergal's misapprehension of Christianity is willfully dishonest or simply oblivious. What's particularly laughable is the point at which Bebergal audaciously asserts that "the rebellious spirit of rock was not unlike the one Jesus brought to the money changers at the temple" (p. 23). So is Christianity really a revolutionary faith and Christians got it wrong or is it an engine of oppression that tried in vain to vanquish the spirit it allegedly embodied? And we're to take Bebergal, a nonbeliever and critic of Christianity throughout the book, as the definitive authority of the faith?
Predictably, Bebergal doesn't just sugarcoat any potential downside to this rock/occult connection, he seems willfully intent to either ignore or downplay any depravity, criminality or moral degradation. More predictably, he seems willfully incurious to explore beyond the veneer of mystique and detached rationalism that he has cultivated throughout the book. If artists' occult fascinations are inspiring them to incorporate fascistic images, songs about serial killers and sexual deviance, relax. It's definitely not that bad.
The subtitle of the book is How the Occult Saved Rock and Roll. While his narrative certainly does an adequate job of backing up the general thesis that the "occult imagination" animated the spirit of rock, Bebergal is cowardly in his defense of the occult. Not only does he refuse to confess any truth value to the occult paradigm, he seems either oblivious or indifferent to the cost to both artists and the culture at large.
He seems content to peddle a simplistic narrative of a rebellious cultural battering ram that shook a predominantly white, middle class culture out of its postwar doldrums and ushered in a new era of sexual freedom and drug experimentation. By default, Bebergal has put himself in the position of defending both the drug culture, the war on drugs, the sexual revolution and the entire sex work industry as net positives for society. If you're going to sound the trumpet of liberation, you better be prepared to defend the consequences of this alleged liberation for the culture.
What has rock done to redress the economic inequalities or the resolve the military conflicts throughout the world? What have rockers done besides regurgitate the establishment approved slogans du jour while racking up millions in their bank accounts? This entire line of complaint of middle class dissatisfaction with the "status quo" Bebergal indulges seems especially toothless and empty in 2022. When the Foo Fighters, a band with occult proclivities of their own, perform for Joe Biden's inauguration it's time to recognize that rock is an approved tool by the global power structure.
Bebergal makes repeated references to rock's libidinous energy and its affirmation of sexual freedom. But is sexual liberation a noble achievement beyond it being fun and pleasurable? If sex is going to be recreational and its sacred function stripped away, why should we take any of the #MeToo posturing seriously? Rebellion and secular Puritanism are mutually exclusive positions. If you're going to destroy Christian moral foundations, you have no grounds to whine about the consequences.
What's most tiresome and boring is hearing Bebergal prattle away about the pernicious omnipresence of "racism" amongst the white, Christian detractors of rock. At this point, nothing could be more vacuous than hearing a secular progressive pontificate on the evils of racism. Especially when inserted into the pages of 200 page apologetic for the occult. What moral system are you appealing to? If rock was this liberating force that freed people from the shackles of Christian morality and middle class ennui, then what business do you have whining about "racism"?
This unstable conjunction of the spirit of rebellion with this would-be secular Puritanism that attempts to chalk up every moral evil to the omnipresence of "racism" is by far the stupidest commentary in the book. Social media is overflowing with pampered rock and pop stars blathering away about "racism" 24/7. The onus lies with Bebergal to demonstrate that this occult inspired moral grandstanding is actually achieving something other than fattening the bank accounts of people who already have too much money and fame while perpetuating the delusion that whining on social media is useful for society.
Like everyone else in the secular sphere, he wants to have his cake and eat it too. He wants to praise rock and roll's transgression and spirit of rebellion while engaging in moral grandstanding about "racism", war and economic inequalities. He wants to expose the opponents of rock as authoritarian hypocrites while ignoring the consequences the degradation, dissolution and decay wrought by the cultural revolution rock ushered in. He wants to praise the "occult imagination" while ignoring the lives it claimed among artists and fans. He is sympathetic to the contemporary occult/New Age notion that "Heaven is here" and that an earthy utopia awaits us if we attend enough rock concerts, take acid and bemoan "war and racism" on social media but wants to ignore the utter failure of the counterculture. He wants to praise the mind expanding properties of LSD while ignoring the victims and the known role of the CIA in mainstreaming this drug as well as its usage in the military's MK Ultra programs.
Most predictably, he seems all too willing to extend the utmost credulity to rockers who claim that their occult fascinations are purely abstract and in service of heightened publicity. Oh, don't you worry. These people are the enlightened cosmopolitans they portray themselves. They're not the blood drinking degenerates the Christians claim. At every point, Bebergal is unwavering in his conviction that the Christian "conspiracy theorists" got it wrong, and the truth is far more "nuanced". Again, Bebergal wants to have his cake and eat it too. He refuses to acknowledge any truth value to the occult worldview, yet claim simultaneously that Christians are wrong. In one instance, he lauds the occult as a quest for something more "authentic", the next, it's just a commercial ploy and there's "no final word" and "no final wisdom".
Bebergal is always able to sweep anything unseemly under the rug. Somehow, the fascistic overtones to Blavatsky are simply misappropriated by racists. Bowie's Thin White Duke persona can be explained away despite his open admission that he wants "to rule the world". The antics of Throbbing Gristle are just harmless provocations. The occult and Aleister Crowley's views are "indefinable". If there's "no final wisdom", Bebergal has no grounds to dismiss any of the outcomes he doesn't like or don't fit his ideological narrative as a misunderstanding or an inaccurate manifestation of occult beliefs.
It's not as though there's a historical record of occult writings or actual historical accounts that we can reference to gain insight into these mysterious people and their belief systems. Oh no. It's just a big enigma that we can't really pin down. It's not as though artists who are engaged in occultism appropriate fascistic images, glorify every manner of deviant sexuality, profess an intention to "change consciousness" and the culture, openly profess a hostility to Christianity, and set themselves up as "gods", but those Christians and "conspiracy theorists" can't possibly be right about any of it. Give me a break.
Despite his weak concession to "conspiracy theorists" near the end of the book, it hardly cancels his cavalier dismissals throughout.
Why should we accord credibility to his "nuanced" view of the inspiration behind the cover art to Houses of the Holy when Arthur C. Clarke's own associations with the occult are known? Why should we assume a more banal interpretation of the sigils on Led Zeppelin IV when Dave Grohl is on record saying he performed a seance using the Bonham sigil? Why should we just believe Bebergal's speculation that Black Sabbath were just fooling around with Tarot cards? Why is it that Dave Brock's megalomaniacal admission that Hawkwind was "setting themselves up as God" gets a free pass? Why do "conspiracy theorists" get the rote dismissal when it comes to global superstars like Madonna and Jay-Z when they pal around with Marina Abramovic and parrot every establishment approved politician and issue? Why does Bebergal devote only a few sentences to the murders and atrocities committed in the 90's Scandinavian black metal scene with the most half-hearted admission that "it all went to far" only to immediately pivot to the more genteel occult proclivities of Sunn O)))? Why does he ignore the tacit support Charles Manson got from The Beach Boys and other Laurel Canyon luminaries? Is this stuff dangerous or is it to be lauded because it's a "threat" to the establishment? Why are we to assume egotism and vainglory when pampered establishment shills like Beyonce, Madonna and Katy Perry march in lockstep with the global elite?
If it's simultaneously just a publicity stunt while still being aimed at "changing the culture", why should we embrace the change as an overall good? Especially when its practitioners openly arrogate the status of godhood.
Most importantly, if all of this is as nuanced as Bebergal alleges, why should we believe that his interpretation on anything is correct? Saying "it's difficult to image" that the band enjoyed the darkest speculations of fans and detractors isn't a compelling reason to accept the banal and anodyne.
Bebergal seems to believe that these various nuances within the occult are actually meaningful. Just because John Balance dismissed the Church of Satan as "Hollywood", that means that his occult beliefs are ...more sophisticated? More acceptable?
The occult is not a "threat" to the establishment as Bebergal alleges. If anything, the establishment sanctions and encourages occult beliefs. The pervasiveness of both occult beliefs and the global dominance of rock music attest to this fact. There is nothing subversive or contrarian about a belief in the occult or the appropriation of occultic symbols in a rock act. It's a tiresome cliché.
The occult revolution was and is about changing the culture. It has always been about displacing and undermining the Christian paradigm. It has been remarkably successful in this endeavor. The only question that remains is this. If rock and roll is all about bringing about a "new consciousness", is Bebergal certain that it's a paradigm he wants to build a society around?
August 9, 2025
some interesting things in here but becomes boring real soon once you get the point the author is trying to make
December 24, 2019
Great primer on the occult and Rock
This slim volume is a great overview on bands with occult leanings (or dabblings), from Robert Johnson to Sunn O))). The bibliography is really helpful, but I still wanted this to go much more in depth.
This slim volume is a great overview on bands with occult leanings (or dabblings), from Robert Johnson to Sunn O))). The bibliography is really helpful, but I still wanted this to go much more in depth.
November 12, 2014
Think of a dog that's finally caught a car after years of chasing: it realizes it has gotten hold of something big, but it has no idea what to do with it.
That's what I think about this book. Bebergal has got ahold of a big theme--there's a definite connection between popular music and the occult. But he has no idea what he wants to say about it.
At some points, he avers-without argument--that it was the turn to occultism that saved rock and roll from devolving into top 40 pop. At other times, he admits that occultish themes are rife in popular music. At times, he wants to claim that Rock'n'Roll--especially British Rock'n'Roll of the late 1960s and early 1970s, was somehow unique in its embrace of occult themes. At other times, he admits that the occult was common throughout the nineteenth century and into the first third of the twentieth century, but then mysteriously disappeared before being rediscovered by rockers. At some points he wants to claim that occult thought--or, as he styles it, the occult imagination--is a significant contributor to Western culture, and at other times he says the whole thing was nothing more than a fashion statement, since what the occult imagination imagines is unreal. At times he wants to say that the rockers he studies really did embrace the occult imagination and let it influence their work, but at other times he wants to say that all the occult trappings were forced onto popular music by observers.
But the problems are more fundamental than that, even. In Bebergal's hands, the occult becomes anything that isn't mainstream (or even mainline) Christianity. Hinduism? The occult. Aleister Crowley? The occult. Meditation? Occult. Magic? Occult. Slave songs? Occult. He sometimes veers very close to what for him is apparently a terrifying notion--that a lot fo what is considered occult grows out of Christianity--but saves himself and returns to deeming everything not taught in mainline churches occult.
The story, such as it is, is told in a series of vignettes, with Bebergal focusing on some band that he thinks is particularly emblematic of a particular occult theme in rock and roll from the 1960s and 1970s--space music influenced by UFOs, devil music, Led Zeppelin and Celtic heritage, etc., etc.
The book is not deeply researched. Bebergal thanks Mitch Horowtiz in the acknowledgments, which explains a lot, given how bad Horowitz's occult history of America is. He also relies a lot on Erik Davis--who gives a cover blurb--and you can tell he wants this to be like Techgnosis, but the crazy connections just aren't there, and when he tries to write the introduction in Davis's voice it comes out as forced.
Mostly, it is a kind of catalog of listener's notes, and that is how it is best approached. Forget the thesis. Forget the argument. Listen to the music with Bebergal and there are some interesting bits--which is what rescued the book from zero stars. I especially enjoyed his writing on David Bowie, but then I've never much liked Bowie or knew much about him, so I cannot evaluate how good it really was.
That's what I think about this book. Bebergal has got ahold of a big theme--there's a definite connection between popular music and the occult. But he has no idea what he wants to say about it.
At some points, he avers-without argument--that it was the turn to occultism that saved rock and roll from devolving into top 40 pop. At other times, he admits that occultish themes are rife in popular music. At times, he wants to claim that Rock'n'Roll--especially British Rock'n'Roll of the late 1960s and early 1970s, was somehow unique in its embrace of occult themes. At other times, he admits that the occult was common throughout the nineteenth century and into the first third of the twentieth century, but then mysteriously disappeared before being rediscovered by rockers. At some points he wants to claim that occult thought--or, as he styles it, the occult imagination--is a significant contributor to Western culture, and at other times he says the whole thing was nothing more than a fashion statement, since what the occult imagination imagines is unreal. At times he wants to say that the rockers he studies really did embrace the occult imagination and let it influence their work, but at other times he wants to say that all the occult trappings were forced onto popular music by observers.
But the problems are more fundamental than that, even. In Bebergal's hands, the occult becomes anything that isn't mainstream (or even mainline) Christianity. Hinduism? The occult. Aleister Crowley? The occult. Meditation? Occult. Magic? Occult. Slave songs? Occult. He sometimes veers very close to what for him is apparently a terrifying notion--that a lot fo what is considered occult grows out of Christianity--but saves himself and returns to deeming everything not taught in mainline churches occult.
The story, such as it is, is told in a series of vignettes, with Bebergal focusing on some band that he thinks is particularly emblematic of a particular occult theme in rock and roll from the 1960s and 1970s--space music influenced by UFOs, devil music, Led Zeppelin and Celtic heritage, etc., etc.
The book is not deeply researched. Bebergal thanks Mitch Horowtiz in the acknowledgments, which explains a lot, given how bad Horowitz's occult history of America is. He also relies a lot on Erik Davis--who gives a cover blurb--and you can tell he wants this to be like Techgnosis, but the crazy connections just aren't there, and when he tries to write the introduction in Davis's voice it comes out as forced.
Mostly, it is a kind of catalog of listener's notes, and that is how it is best approached. Forget the thesis. Forget the argument. Listen to the music with Bebergal and there are some interesting bits--which is what rescued the book from zero stars. I especially enjoyed his writing on David Bowie, but then I've never much liked Bowie or knew much about him, so I cannot evaluate how good it really was.
September 17, 2015
I wanted to like this book, because occult influences on rock music is a fascinating topic. I was hoping for something like Elijah Wald's "How the Beatles Destroyed Rock 'n' Roll," an amazing history of American popular music that turns up surprising connections and forgotten revelations at every turn.
This is not that kind of book. Most of the engagement with the subjects, which range from the Rolling Stones to Coil, is cursory and brief; anyone who's read, say, a Mojo Magazine article about the Stones' dabbling in diabolism knows as much as (or more than) what's presented here. Much of this felt like reading a series of summaries of music press articles, in fact, although with a leaden prose style that occasionally lapsed into incoherence.
The biggest problem, though, is that the author is never really clear on what he means by "the occult," which theoretically forms the basis of his argument. Among the things that may (or may not - it's hard to tell) qualify as "the occult" in this book are Transcendental Meditation, the Kabbalah Centre, Zen Buddhism, LSD, LaVeyan satanism, Wicca, traditional African religions, hoodoo, and so on. It's almost a relief when the author reaches Led Zeppelin and can talk about Aleister Crowley: at last, someone who was firmly within the tradition of the occult.
Essentially, everything that isn't Christianity qualifies as "the occult," a uselessly broad definition that is usually only endorsed by the sort of fringe fundamentalist Christians who hand out Chick tracts at Halloween. This is ironic, given that the author has very little good to say about Christianity (although it's not clear that his knowledge on this score is any better defined than his sense of the occult; he repeatedly uses terms like "the Church" and "the Christian Church" in reference to the United States, for instance).
This may be of interest to people who have never previously heard that Mick Jagger knew Kenneth Anger or that Jimmy Page bought Crowley's old house in Scotland, but for anyone with a passing familiarity with these well-worn anecdotes, this book will feel like a confused rehash.
This is not that kind of book. Most of the engagement with the subjects, which range from the Rolling Stones to Coil, is cursory and brief; anyone who's read, say, a Mojo Magazine article about the Stones' dabbling in diabolism knows as much as (or more than) what's presented here. Much of this felt like reading a series of summaries of music press articles, in fact, although with a leaden prose style that occasionally lapsed into incoherence.
The biggest problem, though, is that the author is never really clear on what he means by "the occult," which theoretically forms the basis of his argument. Among the things that may (or may not - it's hard to tell) qualify as "the occult" in this book are Transcendental Meditation, the Kabbalah Centre, Zen Buddhism, LSD, LaVeyan satanism, Wicca, traditional African religions, hoodoo, and so on. It's almost a relief when the author reaches Led Zeppelin and can talk about Aleister Crowley: at last, someone who was firmly within the tradition of the occult.
Essentially, everything that isn't Christianity qualifies as "the occult," a uselessly broad definition that is usually only endorsed by the sort of fringe fundamentalist Christians who hand out Chick tracts at Halloween. This is ironic, given that the author has very little good to say about Christianity (although it's not clear that his knowledge on this score is any better defined than his sense of the occult; he repeatedly uses terms like "the Church" and "the Christian Church" in reference to the United States, for instance).
This may be of interest to people who have never previously heard that Mick Jagger knew Kenneth Anger or that Jimmy Page bought Crowley's old house in Scotland, but for anyone with a passing familiarity with these well-worn anecdotes, this book will feel like a confused rehash.
October 6, 2015
Peter Bebergal has tackled a really big topic which was ambitious and I tip my hat. Something as "heavy" and huge of a topic of rock and roll AND the occult brings huge expectation. Peter makes a decent shake. A lot of people will probably be frustrated with the skimming of the surface he takes as he dips in and out of various eras and bands, especially if you are familiar with the journeys of many of the bands this will not be new. For the uninitiated though this is a great read.
I was familiar with the journey of many of my own favorite bands such as Led Zep and The Rolling Stones. A lot of those stories have been saturated in the media over the years. The best part of this book are the more obscure stories. There is nothing really salacious in this book. What it will make you miss are the old days of rock and roll which is very, very dead now. Whether we are talking about the belief in love and change of the 60s rock or the dark-night-journey-of-the-soul music of the 70s and excess of the 80s rock each of the journeys of these eras as it relates to a love of outer space, aliens, Aleister Crowley, and 19th century spiritual teachings all bring an almost innocence (not kidding) to the table. These eras were before the internet when you can have all this occult knowledge and more at your fingertips. So there was more of an exploration at hand with these bands that you wouldn't see as much in today's time as things move too fast and information less exploratory because it is so quick to access. In addition the movement of money and business in today's world of corporations and branding gives a very different spirit to rock and roll that you won't see in between these pages as these bands search for a different meaning altogether.
Hence for me this book was journey of nostalgia as it wasn't just about the occult themes of rock music but also the times that these artists were creating in. The best section in the book for me was on David Bowie, whose alter ego Ziggy Stardust and albums on the influence of outer space are some of the best examples of what Peter is talking about with all the bands. A good read if you are in the dark on any of this.
I was familiar with the journey of many of my own favorite bands such as Led Zep and The Rolling Stones. A lot of those stories have been saturated in the media over the years. The best part of this book are the more obscure stories. There is nothing really salacious in this book. What it will make you miss are the old days of rock and roll which is very, very dead now. Whether we are talking about the belief in love and change of the 60s rock or the dark-night-journey-of-the-soul music of the 70s and excess of the 80s rock each of the journeys of these eras as it relates to a love of outer space, aliens, Aleister Crowley, and 19th century spiritual teachings all bring an almost innocence (not kidding) to the table. These eras were before the internet when you can have all this occult knowledge and more at your fingertips. So there was more of an exploration at hand with these bands that you wouldn't see as much in today's time as things move too fast and information less exploratory because it is so quick to access. In addition the movement of money and business in today's world of corporations and branding gives a very different spirit to rock and roll that you won't see in between these pages as these bands search for a different meaning altogether.
Hence for me this book was journey of nostalgia as it wasn't just about the occult themes of rock music but also the times that these artists were creating in. The best section in the book for me was on David Bowie, whose alter ego Ziggy Stardust and albums on the influence of outer space are some of the best examples of what Peter is talking about with all the bands. A good read if you are in the dark on any of this.
November 13, 2014
A wild trip through the fascinating nexus of the occult and rock and roll. From the rumors of Robert Johnson's devilish dealings through the Stone's majestic Satanic tomfoolery, Black Sabbath's heavy doom metal, and the postmodern chaos magick of bands like Psychic TV and Coil, Season of the Witch covers all the important territory. It's not encyclopedic, but more like a smoky, meandering late-night conversation with the archetypal oddball friend who turned us on to all of the atavistic secrets and occult mysteries hiding in his record collection (the same guy who likely read Tolkien and played D&D).
A lot of this has been covered before but never collected into one volume. And as with all good books about music, I discovered plenty of bands I'd missed along the way. Top notch rock journalism for those with an interest in the esoteric subtext of some of our greatest popular music.
My one criticism is that there's not a lot of occult theory here—for that you'll have to look elsewhere.
A lot of this has been covered before but never collected into one volume. And as with all good books about music, I discovered plenty of bands I'd missed along the way. Top notch rock journalism for those with an interest in the esoteric subtext of some of our greatest popular music.
My one criticism is that there's not a lot of occult theory here—for that you'll have to look elsewhere.
January 15, 2015
It's a lovely study of the occult themes inherent in rock & roll, especially in the '60s and '70s, but the subtitle really ruins the entire premise. I'm none to found of subtitles which purport to sum up a book thematically. Usually, the book itself contradicts the premise laid out. In this case, the occult didn't save rock and roll, because the occult was there from the beginning. Granted, it's nowhere near as exciting a title.
Still, it's interesting to see the various occult themes explored, especially in a non-judgmental fashion. Headpress' Gathering of the Tribe did a much more in-depth study of the true occult acts when it came out a couple of years back, but this is a good exploration of how the mainstream music of the '60 and '70s and their exploration of occult (or, really, just non-Christian) religious practices paved the way for the mainstream acceptance of bands like Marilyn Manson.
Still, it's interesting to see the various occult themes explored, especially in a non-judgmental fashion. Headpress' Gathering of the Tribe did a much more in-depth study of the true occult acts when it came out a couple of years back, but this is a good exploration of how the mainstream music of the '60 and '70s and their exploration of occult (or, really, just non-Christian) religious practices paved the way for the mainstream acceptance of bands like Marilyn Manson.
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