So many people claim to hate the song MMMBop. I challenge each of you to read the lyrics. Hidden in plain sight is an undeniable truth of life. Take a moment and try to imagine what the lyrics are. And then go find them. It’s a joy to hear a song in a completely different way after hearing it 1 billion times as an upbeat pop song.
X
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PS I will put a link to a video that highlights the disparity between what we hear versus the words being sang.
For all of you out there who sometimes need a song blasting on the way to work… Find “A Symptom Of Being Human” by Shinedown. I’ve listened to this song multiple times with a critical ear, trying to pinpoint what exactly this song embodies that provokes an emotional reaction in me. The closest I can come Is that it invokes a nostalgic feeling without being tied to a specific time period. It’s a song about mental health and having empathy for every human soul who crosses your path. Even toxic bastards, managers, baseball fans, and registered voters. It’s Thursday which means you’ve made the mistake of delineating your days as if one has more importance than any other.
Before the storm rolled in, I paused on the landing outside my apartment. Below me, I listened to a downstairs neighbor animatedly talk on his phone. Along the fence, another neighbor walked his adorable little dogs. From another apartment came the melody of a beautiful song I hadn’t heard in a while. I love the moments when the universe isn’t looking at me at all. But it certainly seems as it is. The piano of the song and the melodic voice combined to freeze time for a few seconds. I think I dreamed of the melody because I woke up with it in my head. I repeated my presence on the landing. This time watching the shutter lightning off in the distance and listenimg to the rain dripping from the dilapidated gutters. At 2:00 in the morning, I could still hear neighbors burning the midnight oil. Though there was no melody emanating from any of the apartments, I still heard it in my head and felt it in my bones. X .
I was never a big Beyoncé fan. It seemed to lack something and didn’t speak to me at all. But the first time I heard her new country song Texas Hold ‘Em, I loved it. It’s catchy as hell. Music is like food; it’s subjective. Often, it’s hard to pinpoint why I like a certain song. The term je ne sais quoi definitely applies. I knew that this was going to be one of those pivots by an artist that would cause a lot of ripples. Unlike Dolly Parton, who released a phenomenal rock album last year, Beyoncé is a more controversial figure. If Hardy is a country musician, then Beyoncé is too. Tom MacDonald is another artist who is breaking the definitions of mainstream. I’m a fan of fusion and the evolution of all types of genres. Beyoncé’s pivot to country music is pure genius. People can argue about whether they like the song because that’s based on taste. But you can’t make the argument that it’s not country music. At least not without having to take a deep look at the origins of a couple of different genres. It is fun to watch country music stations and fans wrestle with their objections to her throwing a banjo-influenced javelin right down the middle of country music.
PS Even Prince’s “Purple Rain” was originally written as a country-infused song that was to be sung with Stevie Nicks as a duet. X .
A while back, my cousin met me briefly on the way to somewhere else and she gave me a box full cassette tapes, most of which I had made for her decades ago. I took them out several times and looked at the titles and the colored labels that I made back in the day. It brought back a tremendous number of memories for me. Both for the music and the way I had shared it with people. Making cassettes and VCR tapes was one of the ways I helped my mom keep her sanity. Even when she was being argumentative and impossible, the movies, music, and music videos I shared with her kept us connected.
It had been my intention to take them to work and listen to them using an old stereo with a cassette deck. I still have most of the music digitally. Except for perhaps the Looney Toons Christmas music. I put the box in my trunk yesterday.
I’m glad I forgot to take them inside.
When I went to wade the creek today, I followed yesterday’s pattern and went somewhere different. I parked in the apartments near the Agri perimeter. I walked across the wide expanse of lawn, crossed the trail, and walked a different section of the creek. On the way out, I climbed the beautiful tree near the apartments. Most people passing through that section of the trail have noticed the huge trunks that extend horizontally to the ground before pushing back upward. I climbed higher than I should, but I just muttered to myself, “Time is short,” and went up anyway. It was beautiful and the breeze was refreshing.
When I got out of the tree, though I was barefoot, I walked along the protective cyclone fence next to the apartments. A man was sitting outside his apartment listening to music. I don’t know why I approached him. The offer of the box of cassettes in my trunk passed from my lips. He laughed. He said, “Yes, of course! I will give anything a listen.” We talked for a minute and I asked him to wait so that I could walk back to my car and retrieve the box. When I returned, he flipped open the box and smiled. He noted that I had individually decorated and indexed each cassette.
Luckily, he did not pull out very many cassettes. When I went to the car, I put a $20 bill under the cassettes. I also wrote a very short note on one of my infamous index cards: “Thanks for appreciating a returned piece of my past.” I don’t know what he might make of it. But I could tell by the look on his face from just seeing how I had decorated the tapes that he knew it had been a huge part of my life at one point.
It took a long series of coincidences for me to have the box at the perfect time and place. And to find someone who was obviously interested in giving them new life. I owe it in part to deciding to visit new places along the creek. And to my cousin for returning them to me.
NSFW Implications! The post is interesting, but the content might be too far for some people, even though I’ll use faux language to tell it.
Pink’s birthname was Alecia Moore. It became Pink for two reasons. It later became intertwined with Steve Buscemi’s character “Mr. Pink” in Reservoir Dogs. Pink met Steve Buscemi on the streets of New York when her huge 2000 album came out. He didn’t know who she was and she over-excitedly attempted to explain her name and his involvement. Steve ran away, probably in fear of her exuberance. She said he was “scared s***less.”
The original explanation is, well, NSFW. A friend of hers had never seen a white woman’s . Upon seeing it, he commented on the color quite loudly. Her friends started referring to her as “Mr. Pink.” A joke morphed into an outrageously successful alter ego.
Though it pales in comparison to her name as a bit of trivia, Pink is Jewish, which surprises people.
I had to pull over and let the music play. It was unexpected. Pink’s song “Who Knew” came on and it took me back a couple of decades. It was only recently that the singer talked extensively about the song originally being about a huge loss she had suffered. The song was featured in a short-lived TV series named “October Road.” I didn’t watch the show but I heard it often in the background, as someone close to me loved the show. Afterward, it was impossible to hear the melody without a bell of melancholy ringing inside me. All these years later to find out that Pink felt a similar loss makes the song much more meaningful. Not all melancholy is bad. It serves as a reminder, too. Especially when you find yourself doing the things you have to do so that you can do the things that you want to do – and can’t always grasp the point or meaning. Most of our days are founded on obligation and routine. While the universe laughs and flies by us.
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 