by
Jaye B.
(editor’s note: The following is from my Blood Lines series. I have nothing but a deep and profound respect for Country Western musicians.)
It was a relief getting out of the desert for a change. Branson, Mo. was like benediction and we anxiously awaited Chad Brock to appear on stage. It was a standing O when he did, except for my date, Rihanna. She remained seated.
My date encouraged me to do a microtonal analysis of the hit musician's Lightning Does the Work and I delved deeply into the opening chord. In the acoustic substrate of its fanfare resonance, we detected a subtle but pervasive resentment. Brock's career as an All Star Wrestler did something to dampen his Mean Tone Muse. He had done a Corkscrew Elbow Chop on his Euterpe in their Ocala Double Wide, right off the top ropes. Black Velvet Elvis painting sucked right into her Lava Lamp womb as the two writhed on the floor in the Lightning dimension the blow opened.
Didn't want to see Brock's psyche, but I did. In the light of the truth. Made Rihanna look real pretty in comparison and I was no longer resenting my date. Nor did I expect her to explode like Minaj did on me when I was down.
Some say Chad has a pair snake eyes, which is what he ends up throwing on the craps table he bets his life at. Over and over. The Mason odds always indict him though, even with an obvious win at hand. Look at them closely.
Chad didn't even make it through the opening. He knew the only black woman in the theater and me were scrying his tune in ways that pushed him out of his tonal comfort zone. He tried looking into the darkness past the stage and pretended to be inspired by something beyond our reach. But we could see through that too.
Yet, I wasn't there to heckle. Instead, I wanted to hop up on stage and evangelize. That within Chad's music were some very solid and long ranging potentials. Like he could collaborate with Gyorgy Ligeti or Karlheinz Stockhausen and trigger some kind of reverse engineered liberation within the Country Western industry. I mean let's up and imagine Hank Williams rising from the grave, his megaphone heart blasting out some syntonic temperament that would make Pythagoras weep. Then you'll get the idea.
But before I could share the good news, me and Rihanna were grabbed by some of Brock's thugs and tossed out onto the street. Odd how they padlocked the doors and couldn't get in themselves. Maybe they didn't want to.
We all heard a combine start up inside on the stage. Some unearthly harvest was happening of which I'm sure I'll be able to describe before I get myself Baker Acted by the for real Chad himself when he reads this.
TBC
(C)2015-Jaye B.
***
Jaye B. is a writer, musician and artist. His art criticism has appeared in Art Paper, New North Artscape, Art Muscle, Northfield Magazine and elsewhere. His articles have also appeared in City Pages, Twin Cities Reader, Mysteries Magazine, Fahrenheit San Diego, High Plains Reader, New Dawn and Rain Taxi. He has appeared on BBC Radio, WGN Chicago, WLW Cincinnati and elsewhere in the mediasphere to discuss his work. Please help support Reset News @ Paypal, Cash App or contact the author for other options @ jayeb444@protonmail.com
Damn Jaye THAT was great. So much fun for me to break down all the symbolism or mystery your words express, but Rhianna ? Come on did , you can do better than that....
Dude not did, spellcheck error