Carlos @ 70

Yesterday, Carlos Santana turned seventy. I didn’t even know it was his birthday when I finally listened to Wild thoughts. I was a little afraid that DJ Khaled would destroy the sublime beauty of the epic “Maria Maria” in the name of sampling/homage. Bros was wise enough to know you don’t mess with perfect, you respectfully work around it and you get Rihanna to sing about crazy, untamed things- as she was born to do.

Even if my heart would break.

I’ve spent a great chunk of this week perched on a chair, arranging ‘stock’ on shelves with headphones blocking out aggravation or just letting music from my fill the room as I work. Today, I chose to listen to Dave Koz and Kenny G- card carrying smooth jazz fan in da building, I was listening to Kenny G’s ‘even if my heart would break’ when I realised I wasn’t alone, I had been joined by the young man who installed the shelves days before.

The Young and the Innocent

Nuttin No Go So was my favourite song when I was 15, I would listen to it several times daily on my brother’s discman. It held me through the twists and turns of teenage angst and uncertainty about impending adulthood and choices.

Then I forgot about it.

Jesus- patron saint of misfits.

Yesterday morning I headed to my brother’s room in search of my headphones, he likes to ‘borrow’ them and keep them in his room until I go on a retrieval mission. He was trying to cling to the last wisps of sleep but I snatched them out of his grip by shaking his feet and hitting his ankles.

“you’re awake” he mused

Lyrically- Blowing in the wind.

Bob Dylan’s classic song has transcended into legend, the anthem of the civil rights movement and a succour for many oppressed. It is one of my favourite songs, however I prefer Dolly Parton’s version- her voice does things to that song that take me many miles above the earth.

The baby and music.

This afternoon my brother came into my room with a smile that carried full scale mischief, he was followed in by my father who was holding a tiny onesie. It is yellow, mustard is the right word and I wore it as a baby. It was so tiny that I doubted that it was mine even though my mother confirmed it too.

LOVE LIKE IN A ROCK SONG

LOVE LIKE IN A ROCK SONG

 

I want love like in a rock song,

Vibrant, merry and loud,

A love that burns at all ends,

Without a care for the morrow.