It’s been a week. Young Dolph, a true brilliant mind in the hip hop game was killed. The Rittenhouse and Arbery trials continue. Chaka Khan was clearly on that narcota and Stephanie Mills looking and sounding like money was gracious and kind to her, and literally carried her through a Verzuz performance. And Adele. Adele did this.
So I had listened to “30”, but it was a distracted listen. Plus it’s a different listen than “19”, “21” or “25”. As it should be. I heard this song, but it wasn’t until I watched her sing it that I heard it with all of my senses engaged. I clicked on it while writing, and I had to stop. From the moment that piano intro hit my ears, and she turned her head, I knew I was about to witness something special. She didn’t just sing this song, she gave this song wings, she put her back into it, she gave it something we could feel. If you didn’t feel that, trigga gots no heart!
They say a great song can transport you back to the exact moment your emotions aligned with the words… word for word. I was transported by her singing. She painted particular moments with a wide bristled brush, and others with fine detail. She was simultaneously Picasso, J. California Cooper, Diane Warren, Toni Morrison, Frida Kahlo, and Sandcastles by Beyoncé when her voice cracks… “What is it about you-ou, that I can’t erase….” She sculpted, painted, wrote, danced sitting still, and sang.
“Painting walls with all my secret tears
Filling rooms with all my hopes and fears”
I’m sitting by myself on a gray velvet sofa, a gray furry blanket covering my legs, only the light from the tv illuminating the room. I’m heartbroken knowing I’d once again decided, because despite his shortcomings it was in fact a decision I made voluuntarily, to try to love someone who didn’t deserve it. I loathe the decision. That loathing dances around me like a tease. I let it dance until it tires out…
Adele, I feel you girl!
“I’ll never learn if I never leap
I’ll always yearn if I never speak”
I’m sitting in a chair next to him, after he has just said or done something completely out of line with loving someone. My lips part and my legs bend at the knee. I can’t keep my wants to myself even if he can’t supply them. I can’t just remain sitting beside someone who wants to stand on top of me. So I stand up and I speak. Not needing or wanting his validation for things only I can validate.
You better SING THIS SONG!
“To be loved and love at the highest count
Means to lose all the things I can’t live without… Let it be known, that I tried”
He talks, but says nothing. I am willing to sacrifice for love, but not this. This isn’t love and only one person here is sacrificing. I can’t afford to sacrifice like this. He continues talking, not realizing I’m no longer listening. I gather my wraps and my purse, pull out my keys, and pull my gloves onto my hand, wiggling each finger down into its proper reservoir. He asks me where I’m going. I put my hand on the doorknob and turn. I turn to him, I say only, “I tried.” Exit scene.
I mean she took me there… and while those examples are a little more dramatic in my written word than they probably were in reality, that’s how she painted them for me as she sang those words. Words she wrote. Do you understand the artistry in that? The brilliance. The unreserved emotion. Then the very clear rational conclusion… let it be known, I tried. Sis is a whole international treasure for this shit right here. I couldn’t let the week pass without acknowledging this masterpiece.When she finished, I almost threw my phone and led a living room revival by myself. Cuz let me tell you, that right there, that was gospel
Adeleations 29:1: Let it be known, that I tried.