THE DOOR CLUBS
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Get Your Praise On BY ARIAN CAMPOS-FLORES Monday, April 19, 2004 April 19 issue - It's Saturday night in Minneapolis's warehouse district, and the revelers are on the loose. They're staggering from one bar to another, shouting and belching and gallivanting in a booze-fueled bacchanal. But at the biggest venue of all, Club 3 Degrees, a different scene is unfolding. There's no cigarette smoke, and the only spirits around are the ones you can't sip. Up onstage, gospel singer Karen Clark-Sheard is glorifying God with rich vocals and personal testimony. "Give Jesus an ovation," she tells the audience. "I don't know what you come to do, but I come to get my praise on." Her fans whoop and holler in response, their arms outstretched and their hands trembling. Says Clark-Sheard: "I think I'm in the right place." The devout have found their den of virtue. At Christian nightclubs like Club 3 Degrees—believed to be the largest and longest-running of the bunch—churchgoers can gather and groove in an environment free of the perceived sinfulness of secular spots. Though there's no industry group to track the growth of such clubs, anecdotal evidence suggests they're proliferating in cities like Dallas, Nashville and, most recently, Tamarac, Fla. They range from small coffeehouses with occasional acts to cavernous concert halls featuring rock bands like P.O.D. (Payable on Death) and DJs spinning hip-hop tracks by KJ-52. "The quality [of Christian music] today is so much better," says Bud Cool, who's hoping to start a club in St. Louis. "You don't have to be a dork if you're a Christian." At a time when the cultural Zeitgeist is seized with "The Passion of the Christ" and the "Left Behind" book series, the rise of Christian clubs should come as no surprise. "There's a whole world of people who live at night," says Nancy Aleksuk, 38, pastor and codirector at Club 3 Degrees. "Part of our mission is to take the Gospel into that world." Enter her three-level, 18,000-square-foot club—a new space inaugurated in October—and you won't find any overtly religious symbols. In the lounge below, patrons can shoot pool and order pizzas and smoothies from the bar (the closest you'll get to a stimulant is Red Bull). Upstairs, they can experience acts with a state-of-the-art sound and light system. The price tag for all the renovations: $3 million, raised through donations and loans guaranteed by the club's founder, the Living Word Christian Center. A nonprofit organization, Club 3 Degrees is still trying to become financially self-supporting—not an easy task when you don't sell liquor. There are other official prohibitions as well: no mosh pits, no slow songs, no secular cover tunes. Bands must play Christian-themed music and share their faith onstage. After all, Club 3 Degrees is a ministry. Its aim ever since it was started in an old dive bar in 1989: to use a funkier form of praise to lure those souls who might be leery of a traditional church. Twice a week, the club offers church services. One recent Sunday evening, after the house band had fired up the flock, Steve Aleksuk, 47—Nancy's husband and also a pastor—delivered a sermon about "tactics of warfare" against "the Kingdom of Darkness," sounding as much like a surfer as a preacher (on the topic of angels: they're "bad-looking dudes," not "fat little babies with wings"). When he asked whether any congregants were unsure they were headed for heaven, two raised their hands. Aleksuk led them in a prayer of salvation and afterward they received Bibles. Since the club's October opening, 146 such people have ushered Christ into their lives. Among them: Scott Strandberg, 31, whose reckless benders nearly killed him until he found God at Club 3 Degrees. "I don't see any way I would have found my way out of my lifestyle without a place like this," he says. The club has become his sole church—as it has for most of those saved there. But by and large, the club serves as a social space for the already converted. L. C. McCoy, 28, shunned mainstream nightlife because of its pernicious influences. At Club 3 Degrees, "I've seen every race, every denomination of Christian," he says. "They're all out here having a ball in a very safe, inclusive environment." Though ultraconservative Christians may grumble about the dancing, times are changing. The nightclub phenomenon shows "a softening of evangelical identity," says Jeffrey Mahan of Denver's Iliff School of Theology. Young adults "are looking for forms of Christianity that are culturally coherent for them." Not that all Christian clubs strike the balance in the same way. At Station 3:16 in Bakersfield, Calif., the evangelizing is more manifest. Every concert involves a Gospel presentation, and audience members receive response cards to fill out if they decide to choose Christ. But at the Door in Dallas, non-Christian bands mix with Christian ones. "We call it 'religious desegregation'," says founder Russell Hobbs. "We're not afraid of people being exposed to other things." Club 3 Degrees sits somewhere in the middle. On that Saturday night after the Clark-Sheard concert, DJ Smoove began spinning gospel R&B, hip-hop and house. "Get your praise on!" he urged from his booth, as partyers carved the dance floor in small groups. He used to play at secular clubs in Baltimore, until the lyrics about booty and bling-bling became intolerable. Now he lays down only Christian beats, and even still, he recently won a secular DJ contest. "He didn't have to compromise," says his wife, Cindy. Nor, it seems, do the faithful who come to hear his grooves. © 2004 Newsweek, Inc.. |
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Christian Clubbing: Thou Shalt
Rock BY SARAH STURMON DALE Monday, Oct. 20, 2003 Club Three Degrees in Minneapolis, Minn., boasts all the night-life staples, like pool tables, DJs and live bands. But a few things are missing, like alcohol, cigarette smoke and music with racy lyrics. That's because the club, scheduled to open this week, is the city's first downtown Christian nightclub. Until recently, it was housed in an out-of-the-way spot that used to be a rock-'n'-roll bar. "We see this as a mission," said the Rev. Nancy Aleksuk, who has managed the club's move to its new $3 million venue with a capacity of 1,700. The relocation comes as Christian entertainment is increasing in popularity and visibility across the U.S. Russell David Hobbs, founder of The Door, Christian nightclubs in Dallas and Fort Worth, Texas, says his clubs have done so well that next year he is opening a third, in Plano, Texas. In Hallandale Beach, Fla., more than 600 people attended the August opening of Club Mighty, a once-a-month Christian nightclub created by insurance agent Sheldon Bland. "We get believers and nonbelievers," said Bland. "People are looking for an alternative to the typical club scene." . . |
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| . CCM Magazine, 7-2003
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Don't Mess With Texas BY RICK WEBER FIVE YEARS AGO, RUSSELL DAVID HOBBS OPENED THE DOOR. It was the first Christian-oriented club in Deep Ellum, the east Dallas area he called home back in 1984, when he was a beatnik who had not yet accepted Christ. People expected the club to shut down quickly amid the competition of popular dance halls and tattoo parlors. But contrary to these expectations, The Door is now the most successful club on perhaps the nation's most fertile Christian rock music soil, and a sister club has also opened in Fort Worth. "We talk to all the band [members] on tour, and they say The Door is their favorite place to play," Hobbs says. "But the local scene is what's really significant and unique. All these local Christian bands have built up huge followings. This area has broken more bands into the national scene than any city I know- most recently By The Tree, Forty Days and MercyMe." Dallas' dynamic atmosphere has developed by a convergence of four factors: the clubs and their ability to showcase young bands; the proliferation of churches with with high-tech worship centers; KLTY, the largest Christian music station in the world and KTPW 89.7 Power FM, the only 24-hour alternative Christian music station. Also a factor is Origin Magazine, a free publication that spotlights local independent Christian bands on the cover of each issue. "Being in the Bible belt doesn't hurt," adds Dallas area promoter Jimmy Swan, who represents 17 bands. "It's the kind of thing that feeds off of itself because you have so many people who love [Christian] music," says Chuck Finney, director of programming for KLTY, whose yearly "Celebrate Freedom" concert draws more than 175,000 people annually. The Door showcases at least 20 bands each weekend and as many as 50 if it opens during the week to accommodate a national act. Nichole Nordeman recently chose the location to record Live at the Door (Sparrow), which released in May. It is, in Hobbs' words, "a no-nonsense, no-frills, original music showcase hall." The cinder-block walls are painted black, and tunnels take patrons from the 950-person capacity main hall to the 400-person capacity theater room or to the lounge, a couch-adorned area where acoustic acts play. According to Hobbs, it is an "interdenominational meeting place for people of all churches in the metroplex" that has not been without controversy. "A lot of Christians don't even think we should be in Deep Ellum or have non-Christian bands," Hobbs says. "But we're doing what God told us to do. He said 'Open the door and don't be Pharisees. Promote Christian bands, but if other people want to play there, let them because light is greater than darkness." Before The Door, local bands played mostly at churches. And even that scene has become more energized in recent years. Irving Bible Church holds a free convert every Thursday called "Mezzanine Floor" in its 2,000-seat facility, with recent acts including Shane Barnard and Shane Everett and Charlie Hall. A monthly Friday concert features local and national acts. And on Sunday nights, Power FM brings its "Spin 180" show to the church's coffee shop and showcases local bands and performers. Prestonwood Baptist Church recently built a 1,200-seat auditorium (with a $1 million sound-and-lights system) that's devoted every Saturday night to a concert. the Church at Burleson, located in the suburb of Burleson (made famous by "American Idol's" Kelly Clarkson), has free "Cafe Friday" concerts in a 230-person capacity upstairs coffeehouse. "Our encouragement is for people to bring lost friends," says Rick Harrison, booking manager for the church. "We want it to be a positive place to hang out. We try to keep it as ministry-oriented as possible." Other gathering spots include: Apostle Credo in Fort Worth, Insomnia Coffee Bar and The Upper Room in Dallas and Club Red Letter and Gloria Dei Nights in Garland (a suburb of Dallas). |
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| . CCM Magazine, 5-2003
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On The Brink Of Something Big BY ? Russell David Hobbs, a Christian who fused faith and the arts by starting a Dallas club called The Door, lists the top 10 unsigned Texas bands. Says Hobbs, "They're all poised to be signed or take the next step." 1. Blisse-- Pop-rock group labeled the "top-dog" in the Dallas-Fort Worth market for two years. 2. Radiant-- Delirious-style Dallas bands that bills itself as "worship for the revolutionary." 3. Souldancefree-- Emerged out of Dallas Baptist University in 1999. 4. Shoreline-- Described by one fan as "a cross between Incubus and Our Lady Peace." 5. The Broadcast-- Bassist Thomas Ross says the band, formerly called For Eternity, has "a heart for those who feel like they aren't good enough." 6. Silversmith-- Fort Worth-based guitar-driven rockers who recently released their first full-length album, "Under These City Lights". 7. More Than Abel-- Lead vocalist Chase Wantland is described as MercyMe's Bart Millard meets Third Day's Mac Powell. 8. Echoing Eternity-- Alternative band that vows not to "water down our message in order to get secular attention." 9. Crimson-- A cross between Derek Webb and Jars of Clay. 10. Barefoot-- Acoustic rock/alternative music reminiscent of Dave Matthews Band. |
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| . Dallas Morning News, 5-17-03 |
CD arrives live from The Door BY MARCUS STEWART Singer-songwriter Nichole Nordeman brought seven Dove Awards home to Dallas last month. Next week, she'll send a slice of Dallas nightlife out to record stores. Her new CD, due out Tuesday, was recorded March 15 and 16 at The Door in Deep Ellum. Live at The Door features acoustic performances of some of her most popular songs as well as a cover of Cyndi Lauper's "Time after Time." Ms. Nordeman dominated the 34th annual Dove Awards, Christian music's equivalent of the Grammys. Her seven awards, the most ever for a female artist, included "Female Vocalist of the Year," "Songwriter of the Year" and "Song of the Year." The Door, at 3202 Elm St., celebrates its fifth anniversary Saturday. |
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| . Dallas Observer, 3-14-03 |
Life Preserver Deep
Elm Records looks out for those Too Young To Die BY SHANNON SUTLIEF We never imagined those hours spent watching Saturday-morning and after-school cartoons would give us information we could use in the real world 20 years later. We mean besides the there's-no-such-things-as-ghosts lesson. (Thanks, Scooby Doo!) But one simple slogan blaring from the TV speakers actually is worth the reels on which it was recorded. Everyday G.I. Joe would shout a--now important--lesson: Knowing is half the battle. When it comes to suicide, knowing is half the battle. According to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, most people planning suicides give warnings that, if identified and treated seriously, could prevent deaths. For now, the rates of suicide are one death every 18 minutes and one attempt every minute. The result is that suicide is the third leading cause of death for people ages 15 to 24. Working with the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention's belief that the most effective form of prevention is educating people on what the warning signs are and how to respond to someone in crisis, Charlotte, North Carolina's Deep Elm Records (that would be the "emo" label for those who like niches and stereotypes) founded the Too Young To Die Tour, a month-long concert tour with five of the label's bands, including Dallas' Red Animal War. The five-band roster (which also includes Brandston, Desert City Soundtrack, David Singer and Settlefish from Italy) rotates each night, so there is no set opening band or headliner, just a lineup of 30-minute sets. Each show, which is all-ages since many of the at-risk kids are below drinking age, also features a local act. Doosu is the addition to the Dallas show, which takes place Friday at the Deep Ellum club The Door. Also, Deep Elm's two other Dallas bands, Slowride and Lewis, will perform 15-minute acoustic sets to kick off the concert. But the shows are just part of Deep Elm's effort. The label also has released a 19-track CD (available from the bands, at tour stops and at Hot Topic store locations for about $6) with songs by Deep Elm bands chosen for lyrics that involve "hope, perseverance and survival." All the touring bands are featured, plus Slowride, Lewis, Pop Unknown (featuring members of Austin's Kissing Chaos), The Appleseed Cast, Planes Mistaken for Stars, Benton Falls, Surrounded, Cross My Heart, Camber and The White Octave. Just as important, each CD comes with the Suicide Prevention Guide, a booklet about suicide and depression that explains the warning signs and offers assistance. Sales from the CD, concerts and related merchandise benefit the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. Besides playing their sets, the bands might also be speaking about suicide between songs. After all, it's something they care enough about to climb in vans and play a show every night for a month from Dallas to New York City back to Oklahoma City, including a stop in Austin during South by Southwest. They know; now they want others to be ready for battle. |
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| . Dallas Observer, 1-30-03   .  . |
The Force Is With Them Article on Moss Eisley (now known as Eisley) BY ZAC CRAIN Pretty soon, the blossoming band took its hard work to other clubs, including The Door in Deep Ellum. Boyd and Kim had built a relationship with The Door, booking some of the acts that played there into Brew- Tones, sending some of the groups from Tyler west to Dallas. They still weren't used to being a band, but they were trying. "When they first played here as The Towheads" says Russell Hobbs, owner of The Door, "they were doing a sound check. and the little cutest one, Stacy, was up there, and she was like, 'Can I get a little more monitor in my monitor?' They didn't quite have the terminology down yet. And that was just so cute. I'll never forget that." "I think their lyric content is accessible to everybody and fairly mature, and it's really beautiful," Hobbs says. "And I don't think they've at all limited themselves speaking Christian-ese or anything. They're a great Christian family, but I wouldn't call them a Christian band. Since they had so many friends and they were part of the Christian scene, you know, with their own club in Tyler, I think the natural first step was to go play all the Christian places. And I think that they won the Christian crowd over." |
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| . Dallas Observer, 12-12-04 |
Chomsky Marches On BY ZAC CRAIN When Chomsky played The Door on November 23, singer-guitarist Sean Halleck announced that it was officially the group's final show supporting last year's Onward Quirky Soldiers. They weren't going to play another gig until they were finished with a new record for a new label. But that's all he said. Mainly because that's all he could say: Contracts were still going back and forth, from one lawyer's inbox to another. Nothing was official. We'd known what and who he was talking about for a while, but we kept our trap shut for various reasons. (Actually, just the one we mentioned before: The deal wasn't finalized.) Now, we can tell you that Chomsky has signed with Aezra Records, a Phoenix-based indie label that has also released albums by Deep Blue Something (last May's Byzantium) and the Toadies (last month's Live from Paradise). Aezra has more money and clout than most similar-sized indies--the label has only a handful of acts on its roster--since it is run by a group of industry veterans and has major-label-level distribution through BMG and EMI. But more than anything else, Chomsky was swayed by the fact that the label was ready to move forward sooner rather than later. "It's exciting that they wanna put something out the first part of next year," says Sean Halleck, who thinks the new album could be out as soon as March or April 2003. (Don't get too attached to the date. We shouldn't have to remind you that when any label is involved, "subject to change" is the key phrase.) |
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| . Dallas Observer, 11-29-01 |
Dashboard Confessional Dashboard Confessional performs November 29 at The Door with Further Seems Forever, Seville, and Fairweather. Ah, the punk-turned-acoustic balladeer. It seems to be a common affliction - those angry rockers who suddenly unplug their electric guitars to become sensitive singer-songwriters. I suppose you can trace it back to Billy Bragg, through Bob Mould in his Husker Du days and via Nirvana's Unplugged album, right to the present, with Elliot Smith, Damien Jurado and even Ryan Adams. And now Dashboard Confessional - a "band" that, in reality, is just one guy, Christopher Carrabba. A mainstay in the Florida emo scene, Carrabba turned his back on his punk past, recording Dashboard's debut full-length, The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most, with nary an electric guitar to be found. What is does have are 10 heart-wrenching tales of relationships, breakups, love and loss. With songs like "Screaming Infidelities" and "This Bitter Pill," you know this is not some happy-go-lucky walk in the park. And somewhere along the way, Carrabba became heartily embraced by the nation's punk-rock kids, with each live show turning into a singalong event. Maybe mark it down to a shared experience in the minefield of young love, but Dashboard Confessional has definitely hit the right chord. - Jason Reynolds |
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| Rockin'
on heaven's door: Christian rock club owner brings a wholesome,
alcohol-free image to the Stockyards
By Malcolm
Mayhew In 1998, Dallas entrepreneur Russell Hobbs opened The Door, the first club in Dallas' Deep Ellum district to cater primarily to Christian-rock bands. Surrounded by and competing against Deep Ellum's maze of dance clubs,
rock 'n' roll pits, tattoo parlors and drinking stools, The Door wasn't
expected to last. Christian-rock venues generally struggle anyway, but one
planted at 3202 Elm St. seemed destined for failure. |
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Nightclub taps Stockyards siteChristian club, The Door, looking to expand nationwideDavid Wethe Staff WriterSTOCKYARDS DISTRICT -- The man who some say was a driving force behind the nontraditional music scene of Deep Ellum in the early 1980s turned his attention to God 13 years ago and now wants to take his Christian rock nightclub to national prominence. Russell Hobbs opened The Door on the eastern skirts of Deep Ellum in Dallas in May 1998. Although the club, which doesn't serve alcohol, has yet to turn a profit, Hobbs said business is improving, and he plans to open two more locations in the Metroplex by next year. The Door will open its second location May 18 in a 5,490-square-foot building across the street from Billy Bob's Texas in the Stockyards District of Fort Worth. Hobbs plans to open a third site in the fall of 2002 in Plano. After that, Hobbs said, he believes the idea of a Christian rock club is different enough to open The Door in "every major city around the country." He envisions his chain will grow to the size of a Chili's or Hard Rock Cafe. "We really think it can be done," said Jeff Hall, operations manager for the Fort Worth nightclub. "As far as the Christian genre goes, most places are either a church or a mall. There's no in-between place where people can gather. If we have The Door in every major city, we'll have access to the smaller touring bands. That's good, because it can create more of an intimate setting with the crowd." The first priority, Hobbs said, is making sure all three Metroplex clubs survive and make money before getting any larger. Then, Hobbs said, he will pursue investors and corporate support for expansion elsewhere. Although the Plano site has not been determined, Hobbs said he thinks the nightclub concept will be a hit with area teenagers. "Deep Ellum and the Stockyards all seem to be places for adults," Hobbs said. "But suburbia is full of teenagers with nothing to do." Hobbs knows something about suburbia. He was raised in Richardson before eventually taking up residence in Deep Ellum in 1984 when he was in his late 20s. At that time, the area wasn't developed like it is today, but he managed to open two different clubs, the Theatre Gallery and later, the Prophet Bar. Both clubs have since closed. After obtaining everything he was seeking -- power, money and fame -- Hobbs came to the realization that it wasn't satisfying. He went into a life of seclusion in East Texas. That's when a janitor introduced him to God, he said. He eventually found his way back to Deep Ellum after selling his East Texas house and used the money to start The Door. Hobbs said he's learned a lot from the successes and failures of The Door in Dallas, and he knows what he will do differently at future locations. For one thing, Hobbs is trying to simplify what's being offered at the Fort Worth location, which will be only a performance hall. The Dallas club, which features a coffee shop and theater in addition to the performance hall, is almost twice as big as the location in Fort Worth. "The new spot will be a whole lot easier to manage," Hobbs said. Contact DBJ writer David Wethe at dwethe@bizjournals.com or (817) 837-1082 ext. 15.
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Rock Grows in North Texas Reporter: Jeff Brady May 03, 2001 Modern Christian music has established a following and a creative base in North Texas that few other regions of the country can match -- with radio stations, clubs and recording studios catering to the new Christian sound. Case in point:
Blisse,
a Dallas-based alternative rock band, made up of four twenty-something
Christian men who write and perform all-Christian music.
"It's not conservative Christian stuff, it's new, it's fresh, it's
exciting, and it's really turning some heads," said Brad Wigg, bass
guitarist for the band.
They spent a late night recently recording a new compact disc at The
Playroom, an all-Christian recording studio in Wylie.
"Bands are just popping, they're just coming out of the woodwork.
I mean, I'm never at a shortage, people are calling me all the time to do
stuff," said Joel Cameron, the studio's owner.
Blisse hopes to have a second CD out later this month.
"Within the past 10 years or so, the taboo's been taken away, and
people have realized that it's a great ministry tool, and it's a great
thing all around," noted Joshua Havens, the band's lead singer.
So great, in fact, that contemporary Christian music has become a $450
million a year industry, with cutting-edge videos and young Christian acts
like the "Christian music has really gotten a lot better over the past few
years," said 16-year-old Newsboys fan Melanie Carter.
"Christian music makes sense, and I'm sure that's why there's such
a surge, because the music today, coming out of the Christian culture, is
good music, and solid," said Dwayne Watson, a young father who came
to the concert with his wife and children. "It's not wishy-washy
anymore. There's really some important God-centered material there, and it
draws the kids into it."
North Texas even has one of the nation's only all-Christian alternative
rock radio stations.
KTPW 89.7 Power FM
has been on the air for a year-and-a-half so far, commercial-free, thanks
to listener support.
"I just knew, in my heart, that we would develop a following, and
that we would have a great opportunity to reach people, playing this style
of music," said program director Chris Goodwin.
It's a music style that sells CDs, too.
In fact, Christian music is now the fifth-largest category in the entire
recording industry, behind rhythm and blues, alternative rock, rap and
country.
The Christian Family SuperStore in Irving has more floorspace devoted
to Christian music than any other retailer in North Texas.
"A lot of bands are good enough that they are able to cross over
into the secular market," said Kim Lumpkin, a sales manager at the
store.
Christian alternative rock is not alone. There's also Christian
industrial rock, Goth, Christian punk, and Christian rap.
In Duncanville, another group of devoted disciples prepares to record a
new CD.
The Disciples of God, or The D.O.G. Squad often perform at street concerts in Houston, San
Antonio, and in North Texas. "We're just modern-day apostles, that's
it," said Paul Valenzuela, another member of the rap group.
And as for the live music scene, Dallas' Deep Ellum has its own club
catering to the modern beat of Christian music: The Door permits no alcohol, no smoking, no drugs, and no bad language.
Club owner Russell Hobbs opened The Door three years ago as a musical
ministry on a shoestring budget.
"Just working with all these bands and artists is very fulfilling
to me," Hobbs said. "God provides enough money to keep us going
and growing."
Local bands like Blisse play at the club on a regular basis, drawing
crowds of several hundred -- often including parents like Barry Havens.
"It's a great place for them to hang out in a clean environment,
and their parents usually let them come because it's a safe space,"
said Havens, who came with his wife and Joshua's younger brother and
sister to hear Blisse perform.
"It's a positive message, it's nice to hear," noted Nate
Rehlander, a first-time patron at The Door. "It's nice to come in and
not have to hear someone swearing at you every few minutes between songs,
or in the songs."
They are the songs that are becoming the new sound for a new generation
of believers.
FOR MORE INFORMATION
More quotes on Christian rock:
"Why is it happening?" asked News 8 reporter Jeff Brady.
"I think God's doing it. I think he's making a change in people's
lives, and that's spilling over, into their interests. And people who have
bands are doing Christian music," said owner of The Playroom Studio
Joel Cameron.
"It took the general public at-large a while to figure out that
Christian music was cool. Or maybe it took a while for it to become
cool."
"I think the Christian community really made a mistake back in the
1970s when they really made rock music a taboo thing. It seems like since
then, we've been playing catch-up," Blisse band member Josh Haven.
"People just like different kinds of sounds. Just like individual
people have their own individual tastes in music. And in order to reach
everybody, if I'm to be a fisher of men, I have to have a lot of bait in
my tacklebox," said Christopher Goodwin, program director for 89.7.
"We're filling a void in society, between the church and the bar,
and the mall, and the movie-theater. People want to go out, see great
original music, and artists that deal with God and such, and so, we're not
making a bunch of money, but we're growing," said The Door owner
Russell Hobbs.
"So they can know that they don't have to do to gangs, that you
can serve Christ and have fun, you know, it ain't gotta be the gang
violence, and you ain't got to give up all this, when you change,"
said D.O.G Squad band member Clement Ray, Jr.
"This is where the real people are at, this is where the kids with
real problems are at, this is where your average joe is at, right here in
the streets, and the neighborhoods, you know," said D.O.G band member
John Jimenez.
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BORN-AGAIN DEEP ELLUM CLUB
OWNER OPENS THE DOOR
Date Wednesday, January 26, 2000 In the early '80s, Russell Hobbs moved from his suburban home in Richardson and took up residence in Deep Ellum, back when Deep Ellum was street after street of unkempt warehouses, abandoned buildings and unrealized dreams. Then in his late 20s, Hobbs was struck with a vision: To open a club that would cater to left-of-center artistic types - bands, poets, artists and actors who didn't fit in with the status quo. A road paver for Deep Ellum's growth as a nightlife playground, Hobbs' first club, Theatre Gallery, was born in 1984 on Commerce Street, and it was the site for everything from underground rock shows to plays to poetry readings. The same went for his second club, the Prophet Bar, which booked similarly insurgent performances. So much has changed since then, Hobbs says, and so much has not. Today, years after Hobbs found Christ and turned away from Deep Ellum for a life of seclusion in East Texas, the 41-year-old entrepreneur is back in Dallas pursuing his original mission: To spotlight artists who don't exactly fit in. Although his goal hasn't changed, his agenda has. "God gave me the vision to open a new place," says Hobbs, who says he found Christianity 13 years ago via a born-again janitor. "The vision has to do with our society and how it's segregated and departmentalized. The Door stands between two of those establishments, the church and the secular bar world. It's for all the people who don't fit into either." Opened by Hobbs in May 1998, The Door is an all-ages venue catering to - but,Hobbs points out, not limited to - Christian artists. In Deep Ellum's maze of bars, live-music venues, restaurants and pretty-people meat markets, The Door wasn't expected to survive. Christian-rock venues generally struggle anyway, but one planted on the outskirts of Deep Ellum (the club sits at 3202 Elm St., away from the congestion of the area) seemed destined for failure. On the contrary, not only has The Door survived, it has thrived, supported by a circle of fans and bands that, as Hobbs says, consider it a middle ground between church life and club life. "I'd say it's probably the best thing to happen to Christian music in a long time," says Chuck Dennie, lead singer for By the Tree, a popular Fort Worth Christian rock-pop band that plays the venue once a month and has released two CDs, Shoot Me Down and Passion for Jesus. "It's a place where Christians can go, but it's not necessarily threatening to non-Christians. Offering something like that, I think that's the best thing a Christian can do." Hobbs, naturally, agrees. In fact, he says places like The Door, where young people can mingle and worship without the pressures of church, are the wave of the future. "Young people wanna talk about God and life every night, not just from 10 to 12 on Sunday," he says. There's no denying The Door's popularity with an across-the-board crowd. On a recent Friday night, the club is jammed. Young Christians and non-Christians, sporting Seventeen and GQ fashions, mix and mingle, talking about guys, girls and God. A 17-year-old girl in a skirt buzzes by, clutching the phone number of a cute guy. Two teens are huddled at a corner table, quietly sipping soft drinks and talking about the latest disc from Jars of Clay, a national Christian-rock band; some even smoke. Balancing these two worlds has been an uphill battle. Hobbs says the club has taken flack, ironically, from the people it's trying to attract. "We catch criticism from the Christians who say, 'Why do you let people smoke in here? Why do you let non-Christian bands play?' " he says. "Then we catch flack from non-Christians, because people who come here wanna talk about God, and they don't. "People just don't understand what we're doing," Hobbs says. "People are selfish - they wanna go to a show and have it just be perfect for them. There's a greater cause going on at The Door. What we do is desegregate religious stereotypes." Hobbs says that newcomers to The Door will be surrounded by religion, but not by the strict standards of organized religion. "Big churches have the guy in the robe that controls everyone. My values are so different," he says. "I don't look up to the pope. Who I do look up to is Jesus, and he doesn't care about superficial things, if you have tattoos or piercings or colored hair. He looks at your heart." Hobbs didn't always feel this way. When he opened his first two clubs, he admits he was absorbed in rock 'n' roll's typical, decadent lifestyle. "Oh, yeah, I smoked pot every day, drank every night, had sex with different girls," he says. "The world was my playground." When Hobbs was born-again in 1987, his Prophet Bar began to live up to its name. Instead of hard-core punk acts, there were Christian rockers. Drugs and drinking were replaced by Bible studies and praying. But in 1991, Deep Ellum was quickly turning into a commercial zone, and the real-estate pressure for Hobbs to conform the Prophet to the area's changing face was more than he could take. So he bailed and left for East Texas, where he spent the next several years finding himself and his true calling. His true calling, he says, was opening The Door. "In some ways, I haven't changed at all," Hobbs says of his two lives as a club owner. "I was real passionate and visionary then, and I'm that way now. But now the biggest reward doesn't have to do with me. The biggest reward is seeing the people whose lives have changed because of us, seeing the fruits of our labor pay off and seeing lives change for the better." Malcolm Mayhew, (817) 390-7713 mmayhew@star-telegram.com PHOTO(S): Ken Lawdermilk |
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Opening
Doors By
Staff Writer WORD
AND DEED At
first glance, The Door looks no different from its Deep Ellum
brethren: The
Door has been open for more than a year, and by all accounts it has
been a success. The brainchild of born-again club owner Russell
Hobbs, The Door is packed every Friday and Saturday night, providing
a visible outlet for spiritually inclined bands from around the area
and the nation. "The
emphasis is on the art, the music and the show," said Mr.
Hobbs, 41. "It's a lot of things for a lot of different
people." The
club, at 3202 Elm St. on the fringe of Deep Ellum, attracts a
diverse group of musicians. The club is open Wednesdays through
Saturdays, with live music (and a cover charge) most Fridays and
Saturdays. Christian bands clearly dominate, but other bands favor
the club because fans of all ages can get in, Mr. Hobbs said. "We
can be holy and still have friends and have concerts with
unbelievers," he said. "We're like kids who just want to
play with everybody." Mr.
Hobbs' first foray into Deep Ellum came before it was fashionable,
in 1984. A few of his ventures, such as the Prophet Bar, were
successes, but Mr. Hobbs became an evangelical Christian in 1987 and
renounced his old way of life. With
The Door, Mr. Hobbs is motivated by something other than profits.
"God has changed me. I really do want to worship him with my
whole life," he said. "That's what The Door is to
me." Mr.
Hobbs said God told him his mission was to shepherd artists. In that
vein, he's opening a new place next door called, well, Next Door.
Included at that site will be a coffee house, a record store and a
theater. Parts are already up and running, and everything should be
open by the fall, he said. "It
has been a good year." |
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Is it Calvinist Hobbs? Hardly, Former Prophet Bar owner says By Tom Sime ARTS OUT THERE Russell Hobbs is still dead, but he's back. Eleven years ago, the pioneering Deep Ellum night spot impresario declared his abdication as scene leader with a garage sale titled "Russell Hobbs Is Dead." It was a goodbye to his old days and, more importantly, his old ways as a boozing, drugging, groupie-happy kingpin of hip. "That Russell Hobbs is dead - hopefully," confirms the former club guru, now40 and still committed to the Christian beliefs he took up in 1987, to the shock and dismay of friends and colleagues. His return answers two questions: What ever happened to Russell David Hobbs, and what ever happened to 3202 Elm St.? It's the performing space that Deep Ellum Opera Theatre called home until losing its lease a few months ago. Mr. Hobbs has leased the place and renamed it The Door, "an all-ages art venue. . . . It's not a bar. It's not a church." He's done both of those already. Mr. Hobbs' Deep Ellum career began in 1984 with a similarly rough-hewn black room on Elm Street called the Theatre Gallery, and peaked with his presciently named Prophet Bar on Commerce, which became a launching pad for such Dallas rock acts as Reverend Horton Heat and Edie Brickell and New Bohemians. Then Mr. Hobbs threw the scene on its ear by abruptly converting to evangelical Christianity and renouncing - gradually - his evil ways. The Prophet stopped serving liquor and began featuring more religious acts; the kids stopped coming. He reinvented Prophet as a restaurant with a "prayer wall" and a menu featuring such items as a "Deuteronomy Fish Platter." Despite $170,000 in remodeling, however, the eatery didn't take, either. Most of Mr. Hobbs' old associates felt betrayed, and he eventually withdrew from the scene he'd helped create. He built a retreat in East Texas and did the hermit thing for three years, "living in the woods" on money he inherited after his father's death. "I finally became content with watching the trees blow, and just talking to the old neighbor down the street. It was really cool." But it couldn't sustain him forever. He considered opening a North Dallas restaurant, but found himself looking around in his old stomping ground. "I really believe that Deep Ellum has a major destiny," he says. "It just seems like God keeps drawing me back here." The 3202 Elm building appealed to him because "it's a little off the beaten path" - the same reason it often failed to draw audiences for the many theater companies who have worked there, including not only DEOT, but New Theatre Company, Undermain Theatre, Actors Stock Company and Gryphon Players. One problem has always been parking; Mr. Hobbs hopes he's solved that one by arranging for his customers to park on the rooftop lot of a neighboring business. There's still no liquor on the menu of coffees, snacks, juices and soft drinks, though free beer was handed out at the opening on May 15. ("We don't think drinking is wrong. Jesus turned the water into wine.") Along with a liquor-free menu, The Door features primarily live music and visual art, but Mr. Hobbs plans on bringing in theater, too. "I'm into showcasing inspired artists," he says. "What makes me tick is artists that are totally convicted and inspired in what they do." But there's a catch. Any artist appearing at The Door must pass spiritual muster. "You can do your art here if your conviction or your inspiration is about God, something that would be scoffed at in other circles," says Mr. Hobbs. "We have a lot of Christian acts here . . . but we also have bands booked that aren't necessarily Christians. . . . I don't want this place to be labeled as just a Christian place, because it's not." Some confirmation for that seems to come from The Door's first theater offering: Little Blue-Eyed Girl - a play about Bonnie Parker of Bonnie and Clyde - opens June 16. It's a one-woman show written and performed by Dixie Lee Sedgwick of Dallas, who says it's "not a Christian play at all." Little Blue-Eyed Girl will play Tuesday and Wednesday nights June 16-24, with live bands holding onto the more lucrative weekend nights. Thursdays feature "Songwriters in the Round," with musicians playing and critiquing each other's new material. "I don't think underground theater is popular enough to solely be what a space does," says Mr. Hobbs. "This place couldn't survive on just theater." Can it survive on just Christian and Christian-approved art? "There's so many different kinds of religions, and Christians," he says. "We don't want to be lumped in with the Christians that stand in front of abortion clinics and scream at people. . .. I just want to do something to showcase artists. . . . I want this to be a place where people interact, where they can really experiment and be what they want to be artistically. . . . There's not a bartender/booker saying, "We can't have you on anymore, 'cause you don't sell enough beer.' " Call The Door at (214) 742-3667 for more information.
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Bebo Norman/Shaun Groves/Katy Hudson The Door Dallas, Texas By Beau BlackThis fall finds Bebo Norman on the road again, this time accompanied by a full band and new artist tourmates Katy Hudson and Shaun Groves. Bebophiles who like his folksy “me and my guitar” show may not see the full band addition as a step up- but it is. At an early-in-the-tour stop at The Door in Dallas, the clean-cut college/post-college crowd responded enthusiastically to the change. And they turned out in droves, packing the club on a Thursday night. Nautical pings resonated from the speakers as Bebo and company took the stage, bathed in a purple glow. Those effects morphed into the first strains of “Cover Me”, the best track from Norman’s May release Big Blue Sky. That and the following version of “I’m Alright” took full advantage of his five-piece band, including two electric guitarists (accompanying him on acoustic), a keyboardist, bassist, and Caedmon Call’s Garet Buell on drums and percussion. Rather than robbing the show of intimacy, the addition of the band- which echoed Norman’s evolution on Big Blue Sky- allowed Bebo a story or two but constrained his at-times lengthy stage talk. One of those stories introduced his 90-something grandfather Grover, who he said beat him in the race to find a girlfriend. (Here and elsewhere, Bebo slipped into his self-deprecation “I can’t get a date” routine, which is amusing but a little hard to swallow given the mob of young ladies crowing around him after the show.) He recalled seeing his granddad sitting with 50 family members around him at Christmas setting up the ode “All That I Have Sown”. After a bang-up version of “Underneath”, the band exited as Bebo introduced the “I haven’t lost my folk” part of the show, eliciting cheers from the audience as he announced “Walk Down This Mountain.” It seemed everyone in the packed room knew the words and sang along as the rich tones flew bird-like out of his guitar. He dispersed with the annoying sham encore, staying on for “A Page Is Turned” and John Gorka’s “Branching Out” before closing with the ever-popular “The Hammer Holds.” Shaun Groves pulled off difficult translations of several songs from full blown, Vertical Horizon-esque rockers to stripped-down acoustic versions. After ripping through Invitation to Eavesdrop’s “Should I Tell Them and “Damage Done,” he slowed things down to speak about worship, noting that it’s not revival until we’re willing to take the hands we raise in worship and reach them out to those around us who don’t know Christ. His brief comments segued into “After the Music Fades” (“I…/Wanna be close to You/Long after the music fades”) before he switched to keyboards for his big bit “Welcome Home.” Katy Hudson kicked the evening off, taking the stage in a big black sweater, her hair sticking out every-which-way as she warbled through “Last Call” and “Trust in Me” equipped only with her guitar. She came off as self assured as she joked to the audience that they “didn’t come to get edified – you came to see Bebo.” The trio of artists left little lacking in the well-packaged show, which gave Bebo fans the best of both his worlds – and a taste of two excellent new artists to boot. CCM 11-01-01 |
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Dallas Morning News, June 2002 by Berta DelgadoText coming soon |
