Day 18 – white boy soul

What can I say about race?  I can say that I’m jealous of black people’s ability to make the most beautiful music seem almost effortless.  I’m a white bread, cake eating, crackerjack fool that is completely in love with the polyrhythms of native Africa.  And I’m completely in love with the sound of any bluesman’s voice, or any jazzman’s horn.

Its true that I’ve often felt alienated by other white people cause I had all sorts of rhythm where they didn’t, I felt this to be particularly true growing up in a Presbyterian Church where people couldn’t clap in time if you paid them.  But the color of my skin makes me inherently suspicious to the yang of my yin.  This creates a certain amount of anxiety in me – which I believe I’ve learned to cultivate and fuel into my music.

Hence, white boy soul.

It actually feels a little crazy to write that.  But its the truth.  The uncrazy thing about it is that I know that I’m not the only one who feels that way.  All the little hip-hop wiggers have made it true for themselves following Eminem.  My boomer, white piano teacher has made it true for himself.  Buddy Holly, Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page, Jeff Beck, Old Hack, and every other white boy that gets caught up in gospel, the blues, jazz, hip-hop, funk/soul or reggae knows exactly what I’m talking about.

Once you go black, you never go back…

That said, I was very thankful for a hefty black woman that gave me a couple dollars for my delivery of the old gospel tune Soon And Very Soon today.

“Hallelujah!”  She said.

“Thanks Maam.”  I said.

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