Walked out of practice tonight and turned on KTU, and danced all the way down Houston, due to "Kiss" being on; dancing while walking is easier than I thought it would be.

On the D train and as we pull onto the bridge, "The Champ" comes on, and it's absolutely perfect, the swagger stomping in lockstep with the pull of the buildings below and the water beneath, some total Wall Street shit, but locked-in, too, enclosed, like the train, giving us a beautiful view through girders. Next to me, a teenage girl sporadically does a shoulder-and-head dance to her music that pops.

On the 2 train, there's a younger dude sitting next to two bundles of eggcrate foam about as tall as he is, looking like they're going to go soundproof a studio somewhere. I listen to more Ghostface and bop my head. Down the row, a Hascid reads some scripture and bops his head, too.

Sometimes I think about the idea of music in everything, but I think it's more useful to specify that there's also a beat in everything, and some we haven't found yet. The beat to trains or cars or walking or praying or ecstacy is easy, it's "don't stop" plus "mix it up." You box a beat in, you contain it, and you can understand it. But there's a beat to the open air that's lurking out there somewhere to be discovered, the beat of as-the-bird-flies distances and sightlines and the horizon. Maybe this is hippie shit or maybe it fuckin rocks, who knows.

So yeah, it was a good trip. And I got an idea...
posted by Mike B. at 11:12 PM 2 comments