Sample Sunday - Call and Response - Is it Personal To You?
“I mean yeah, but damn. You’re… gifted,” I said, and this time, I was the one holding the gaze, wanting him to understand I really meant that shit.
That talent-attractiveness-intellect trifecta was nothing to sneeze at.
“I appreciate that,” he nodded, breaking the eye contact to look up the street again.
“But do you believe it?” I asked.
His gaze shot back to mine.
Eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“I asked if you believed what I said – if you believe you’re gifted,” I repeated, though I was confident he’d heard me perfectly well the first time.
“What makes you think I don’t?”
“The way you keep brushing it off,” I countered, stopping to wait for the crossing signal. “And also the fact that you haven’t actually answered the question.”
His hand went to the back of his neck, squeezing like he was trying to soothe a sudden rush of tension as he shook his head. “I… honestly?”
“Please.”
“I don’t… I don’t know anymore,” he shrugged.
“Because you haven’t been able to get anything to pop off on your own… you’re taking it personal?”
He let out a bark of laughter as we crossed the street. “How do you not take it personal?”
“Well… I mean, the music that isn’t working… is it personal to you?”
“I wrote it.”
“That’s not what I asked though – I asked if it was personal to you. Like… meaningful. You poured your heart, your soul, everything into it and it flopped?”
“Uh… nah,” he answered, after giving it a moment of thought. “It’s not like that. Hasn’t been. But it was good stuff.”
“Maybe for someone else.”
“What?”
“Maybe it was good stuff for someone else – not you. The music has to fit the person – the audience has to believe it, and they don’t believe… you.”
He stopped this time, arms crossed over his chest. “What does that mean?”
“It means I listened to your solo stuff – and you’re right, it’s not bad, it’s just not you.”
“You don’t know me.”
“But musically, I should,” I countered. “You went from that good toxic shit with Josiah to… music our grannies would approve of,” I explained. “And I don’t think that’s what you’re about. I think The Cure is you. I think the song with Ky is you. But you want so badly to not be associated with Josiah and his bullshit that you’re not doing what actually works.”
“So toxic is the only thing that works now?” he scoffed. “I can’t accept that. I need to grow.”
“Then grow… and take us with you. Show it. You can’t go straight from sneaky link tunes to twenty-fifth anniversary music,” I laughed, and after a moment, he did too. Then, I continued. “The transition period is important, and if I had to guess… I think that’s what you’re missing – that shift. Like… I know for a fact Josiah was on the exact kinda bullshit y’all were singing about in his real life. What about you?”
He sighed, shaking his head before he admitted, “I was writing from experience.”
“Okay,” I nodded. “But you’re not in a relationship now – you’re not in love, you’re not married… why is the music about that then?”
“How do you know I’m not those things?”
I sucked my teeth. “Please, you’re way too surly for that.”
“Surly?”
“That’s what I said,” I giggled. “So… you figure out what space you’re in. Figure out how to articulate it. And that’s where the music should be. Not ahead of it or behind it. And that’s where we’ll write from. Okay?”
His eyes narrowed a little, confused. “Uh… okay. I think.”
