Today was “II Most Wanted” on the Cowboy Carter album. Three listens back to back to back. I’ve listened several times before so it has settled in like an old friend. I didn’t have young “the first time I saw your face I fell in love” feelings when I met my husband but I knew early on he was causing the old me to make an exit. I learned to trust and see purity and goodness and intention without ulterior motive in a man.
I wasn’t afraid.
In the years since we’ve been together, I can conjure many memories of long car rides full of music, laughter and comfortable silences, and early rides where we pulled over to kiss frantically. Arguments and cold silences and ear and neck strokes. Sometimes, you know the love of a lifetime in those moments.
A whole lifetime.
I wish I could tell the old me that it would be alright, whether or not “he” came along but back then, I am not sure I would believe this time traveling version of myself. I needed to live it and breathe it…this most wanted love.
“Just For Fun” from Cowboy Carter was today’s back to back to back listens. I am going through a time where I am making choices about my health and my writing career. I am choosing to participate in a creative cluster reading “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron and showing up to a communal writing space on Sundays. Over the past three weeks, I have recommitted to moving past the stagnant stage of my health journey. I even got back to jogging yesterday which felt like I was flying, hearing old Missy Elliott and A Tribe Called Quest, checking the rhyme and flying. I am keenly aware of how this life can run me over. Arguments with a partner, maybe feeling slighted at work, chronic pain since my surgeries last year and sometimes an honest overwhelm. When Beyonce sings about getting through this or decide to get used to it, I felt it at my core. At what point do you make the conscious choice not to get used to it and make those changes, as hard as it may be to consistently show up.
I understand sometimes we have to make room for the “I just need to get through this” days or months. I certainly have. I wouldn’t be at the point of showing up for myself and my craft consistently unless I did.
I had the times where I literally wanted to hide my face, retreat to the covers or head out on a long drive just for the hell of it, just for fun. I am glad I have a song to belt out during one of these rides.
It was three short listens of Willie Nelson in “Smoke Hour II” on Cowboy Carter. I have seen a video where someone complained that Beyonce should not have used Willie Nelson or Dolly Parton on her album as if only a white voice could legitimize her foray into a countrified Beyonce project. However, I saw it as a flex because they are legends and because Linda Martell is prominently featured on the album as well, the commentor’s complaints did not have legs. The album’s influences and features have many Black voices, past and current, so again, no legs to stand on.
But back to Willie Nelson, the quote in this interlude/intro: “Sometimes you don’t know what you like until someone you trust turns you on to some real good shit”..elicited the strongest of head nods from me. It is true. Sharing the love of a song, a book, a TV show, a movie, a new artistic medium (for me, it was weaving on Friday night and songwriting class on Saturday morning) creates community and builds on that trust.
I don’t know about any of you but a recommendation from a friend or trusted source rouses me to try that new thing. Even if I don’t feel the same, I am almost never disappointed that I tried.
That I introduced something to this day that the previous one had never seen before.
I am four listens in to “Alligator Tears” from Cowboy Carter and I find myself thinking of every element from the meter to the chorus to the hook. I normally would never use those words but I attended my first songwriting class this morning. I cannot sing or play any musical instruments. I cannot read music but I was still drawn to this class. I told the instructor that I will never hear music quite the same and it’s already true.
I let myself get carried away but there was a second listen where I thought about what words were stressed versus unstressed. How deliberate the vocal arrangement is especially when she sings “Sunrise in the morning.” Most of the time and this will persist of course, I allow myself to be swallowed up by the music but I liked how learning new information expanded the way I experienced the music.
As for how I feel when I listen to this track, “I’m into deep.” I love it. I want to slow dance with myself. I want to slow dance with my husband.
It is a romantic lullaby.
I want to hug myself to sleep and wake up whispering “I adore you.”
I am surprised to watch myself type this but this was the musing I was most inspired to write. By the way, it’s “SpaghettII” on Cowboy Carter—three listens back to back to back. The first time I listened I could not stop shouting back “Come Get Everything You Came For” at the song. I think I was shouting it at my life. I am certain every time we try for something, be it a failure or a success, we are coming for it. Every time we love as hard as we can with all of the fullness, we are coming for it. When I step behind a podium and read my work, I am coming for it. When I board the plane for my next trip, I am coming for it. When I show up for the people who matter. When I say no to preserve my peace, I am coming for it. And it keeps me wanting more, doomed or destined to become the explorer I was meant to be in this life.
I could not stop singing “Howl to the Moon” on my walk today. Something about Shaboozey’s voice made me want to heed his command, be out in the open air with my friends, my own riders. It also transported me to the top floor, La Terraza, and La Fonda Hotel in Santa Fe, New Mexico in December 2022. I have written about it here. After a dancing hands meditation, led by Jane Sibbett, where I weeped uncontrollably and she saw my ancestors behind me, I was drawn to the moon. I wanted to free myself from my bra and walk outdoors on the terrace and bathe in the moonlight, my own howling at the moon. I stayed indoors to circle up with my fellow participants and listen respectfully to their experience but my eye would drift to the doors.
I guess it hasn’t completely left me, over a year ago and thousands of miles away.
The last thing I will say here is that the voice of Linda Martell was a wakeup call disguised as an intro: “But in practice, well, some may feel confined.” She was referring to the concept of genre. We are all guilty of being placed in a box or climbing inside ourselves and fastening the lid, scared to come out or even loosen it to peek at what’s on the outside. We should all feel free to bust out of the box and climb back in as we please and not solely for others.
We should all feel free to come get everything we came for, howl at the moon and defy our genre.
I listened to “Daughter” three times from Cowboy Carter. Back to back to back. I spent much of the day working and then playing caddy for my husband this evening. I thought I didn’t have it in me but I think this ritual is starting to grow roots.
I heard a painting in this song. A woman beating someone to death, standing over the black and blue bruised corpse, coolly measuring just how distressed to look as she makes her exit, scantily clad with fabric torn.
I thought about why anyone would choose to bring such a fantasy to life with their angelic voice. I think she is singing it because we all know living out our angriest, coldest fantasies is a non-negotiable. We would be lying if we do not admit there has been times where we picture ourselves as the main character in the violent, revenge film or daydream about a world where we could do whatever we want without consequence.
I know “I am not colder than Titanic waters” but that version of myself is free to live in a fantasy or singing alongside Beyonce from my couch as I did this evening.
Today is “Texas Hold ‘Em”, the seventh track on Cowboy Carter. Through each of my three listens, besides restraining myself from dancing in this very public space I happen to be writing in, I found myself wanting a good time. The good whiskey-guzzling, tornado-escaping into a dive bar time is something I may never have but it’s not the point.
I was nostalgic for the time where my friends and I used to dance at a bar over the state line in West Virginia because it was the closest thing we had to a club. Drinking and dropping it low and backing it up and laughing and slow dancing with our friends and crushes. A time was had.
I don’t crave that exact experience again but I am so damn happy I had it. I never have to wonder what it was like to have the “red cup kisses.” We didn’t do it for the gram or to be seen because not a single picture was ever taken at that club. We did it because we needed the release.
As I am writing this, I am realizing that is what never changes.
Needing the release.
Sometimes, the “you” in “And I’ll be damned if I cannot dance with you” is me.
Day 3 of Cowboy Carter was “16 Carriages.” Three listens. Back to back to back. I am solemn and while I listened, I was transported back to my mother’s sadness, my mother’s prayers and how hard she worked while I was a preteen. I know, as the song said, “Daddy grinded” but I couldn’t see his work the same way. I know I lived in the manifestation of his work aka the house but a mother’s work, a woman’s work.. oh it hits different, my friends.
I am 16, waiting for the world to open up to me but I didn’t know what that would mean. The anger, the loneliness, the numbing, the great love and a fear that I am still learning how to leave on a “back road on a holy night.”
We grow up and we want so much not to be forgotten but also remember that it only counts if the people who knew you remember how you loved them and in the wisdom of the late great Dr. Angelou , remember how you made them feel. I understand the yearning of legacy. I may never get it with a child but I hope when you close your eyes, and try to picture me, you are flooded with the deepest, warmest love and know I yearn for that warmth, too when I close my eyes.
So on with my Cowboy Carter musings. Today, I listened to “Blackbird”, the second track featuring Tiera Kennedy, Brittney Spencer and Tanner Adell. I was looking most forward to writing about how I felt after hearing this song the first time. As American Requiem fades and the toe tapping and guitar’s presence arrive, I am already in tears.
It may sound strange but there is a purity to the sound and the softness of these beautiful Black women’s voices that make me want to carry it forever. I am 11, swinging my little feet towards the spring sun, waiting for my moment to arise. It is nostalgia. It is the hope that nostalgia brings. I am sure the meaning of Sir Paul McCartney’s lyrics only make it that much more powerful as he wrote it inspired by the treatment of Black girls in the 1960’s, watching in sorrow from across the pond. As I listen, I see Beyonce being passed the baton by the spirit of these women and sharing it with Tiera, Brittney, Tanner and even me.
I carry the hope of the women who came before me and pray to make this freedom count.
I watched “Jingle Jangle: A Christmas Journey on Netflix yesterday afternoon. It is the tale of toy inventor, Jeronicus Jangle, finding his way back to believing in himself with the help of his precocious genius granddaughter, Journey, many years after an apprentice stole his work that led to financial ruin. I knew it would be full of song, dance and Christmas cheer but I didn’t expect it to be the movie I needed to see in 2020.
It delighted me to see a Black cast expressing joy so unabashedly. It allowed me to indulge in this magical fantasy without racism lingering in the shadows. I loved seeing beautiful brown skinned children surrounding their grandmother (played by the incomparable Phylicia Rashad) clamoring to hear this story amid a crackling fire and Christmas decorations. The costumes were gorgeous. The idea of an Afro-Victorian fusion was genius. One of many highlights was a snowball fight and dance between Journey and Jeronicus and set to an Afrobeats song.
The acting was incredible and I would expect nothing less from Forest Whitaker, Keegan Michael Key and Anika Noni Rose but the children shone so brightly, too! I wasn’t taken out of the fantasy even once.
There were many messages delivered centered around believing in yourself but this by far was the most moving from Jeronicus to Journey:”Never be afraid when people can’t see what you see. Only be afraid if you no longer see it.” It’s one of those messages tailor made for everyone, but especially for those who may be on the brink of losing hope. Now that is something I believe we can also use a little more of in 2020.
Kristina Hamlett writes to connect, heal, and be a force for change. 