What happened to Melody?
She got lost in the beat. Buried in the mix. Drums and bass and shit, pushed over some DJ's back and she bumped her head. Knocked out. Got left for dead. Musicians of all shapes and sizes stepped over her. Rappers and hip hoppers laughed at her. "Bitch ain't worth shit!" they chanted in unison over and over again until they convinced themselves that theirs was a better Melody with a bigger ass and a way better party. Melody, why you bitchin'? Mama said knock you out! Only your samples matter. Just a little taste to make it more than funky.
But I got the blues. In a million different shades, too.
"Ain't that a bitch, think I'll go uptown and dig a ditch."
Johnny Guitar Watson
Somebody lost a hook, and a new generation needed a Who and everyone threw it down in the mix and it got all mixed up with Melody.
Remember way back when? Melody was so sweet, just California dreamin'. Man, you could almost sing "those were the days." Can I get a witness? Aretha got plenty of r-e-s-p-e-c-t. Marvin knew what was goin' on? Otis was down on the dock, but not just sittin'. And a change was gonna come, Mr. Cooke. We use to party like it's 1999, princely P. told us While others just wanted rock them casbahs.
Yeah, you could feel the earth move under your feet. Back when the radio mattered. Beat-tells held our collective hands to "help" us on our way. I just need somebody, not just anybody. Sweat dreams, Melody. Sweat Baby James? Lame, dead, Joe DiMaggio. Looking for America. Wasn't that Paul Simon a long time ago? Heard he needed Eno to sizzle his nizzle. Have you seen her?
Baby, have you seen her?
Where did Melody go? Mary J. Blige found her for "One" sec, but it was U-twoed who towed that line, wrote that shit. And then I fell over too. But I found respite rhapsed in gushing Gershwin's blue. Sweet mother, wrap me with your clarinet intro and pull me under ¦the deep blue sea. Blue, my temptress Joni.
"Songs are like tattoos/You know, I've been to sea before"
Oh, Mr. Davis, kinda blue; sweep over me, release me -- muted trumpet, gentle man with horn and Ms. Melody on your fine silk wrapped arm cuz my lady Ms. Holiday use to sing the blues but she was lynched and left for a dead, swaying in the heat like some "Strange Fruit."
Now I hear her galloping towards me. Horses, running in every direction, beat poetess of love and death. Kick me in the balls, hard, Ms. Smith, beat goddess. Knock me over with your spoon-and-needle fed, Melody. I wanna be sedated by your sonic assault; your Beach Boy-mugging punked up prose, never heard that song so quick and delirious. Me and Melody beat on dat brat with a baseball bat. Un-questioningly.
Feed me your distortion; trip me up, just like honey. Jesus, Joseph and Mary, unchain Melody. Let her up. Let her find her way home before she gets lost again. Cuz only love can break your heart, only love will tear you apart, only love will set you free. I'll let you love the one you're with and then wake up and make love to me, And then love me two times cuz love is all around me. And who said it's a sin when you love somebody? Your love will ultimately reign o'er me, Melody. Or was the love I saw in you just a mirage? Naw. Your love is my happiness.
My dear sweet, Melody, you really got me. Cuz you're as sweet as Tupelo honey. You're my brown sugar. You're my everything. Wake up and make love to me, darling. You're just dazed and confused. It's just a bump on your head. Only you know and I know that you'll be fine. Trust me. 'Cuz one is the loneliest number. God only knows.
(The above editorial name checks lyrics from some of my favorite songs. Can you find and name all of the songs and acts that sang them?)