The song pounded its beat in my mind, daring to crush out any other salient thought I may have ever hoped to have. The rhythm destroyed me, the meter ravaged me, the lyrics held my battered corpse for ransom. Inflection had no right to work that well, but it did.
I thought to myself this is truth. There may be other truths, no doubt, but this is truth. Some things are true despite our insistence that they’re false, or our hope that we’re greater than the idea itself. The truth doesn’t care- it can’t care, any more than a song or rhyme or metronome casually swinging back and forth can care. Because that’s the nature of truth. Gravity doesn’t need us to believe in it, nor is it impressed that we happened to find it.
The next song is slower, more melodic and burnt orange in its incantations. Words like syrup covered golf balls clattered from the singer’s month onto dated linoleum in a heartbeat shape for three straight minutes, causing a mess. Truth doesn’t care if it makes a mess either. In fact, the more we try to clean it, scrub it, sanitize it, make it go away, the harder it is to ignore. Piso mojado. Danger. Caution. Wet floor. You’ve been warned.
The next selection is infused with something akin to soul, with blues chords twirling with tobacco smoke and oak. I picture a ramshackle building just east of Shreveport that I’ve never seen or heard of but I’m as sure it exists as the gravity mentioned above. This is the song it would play- that it would emanate from the knotted wood wall planks and pictures on those walls. Even when lesser lights played on the stage, this is the song it would play. And those who were attuned to the truth would find a way to hear it. Because those who are meant to hear the truth always do, even if its messy.
The next to last song is brash. It simply is. It’s not lukewarm- there’s no ignoring it. It’s either hated or loved in an instant; no coming around to it or growing into it or thinking it over or mulling it by and by while walking down country roads; no, this song is the fork that leads two ways. No one loiters here. It’s short and doesn’t last long, but it’s catchy. It too holds truth, but the truth is different for each person in the way one approaches it. Some reject it outright, but even in the rejection is a knowledge of the truth. No one denies that it is a song; the argument is over its impact. Some swear it is the most perfect song ever made; that this song, and this song alone, contains a key, a key, that if used, would open every door ever made worth entering. Others swear it’s rubbish.
The last song? Well, I actually haven’t heard it yet, but I hear it’s a doozy- a real show stopper.