Monday, August 6, 2012

The Unsung

On the way home from the Rodriguez movie yesterday, Vincent told me the story of Charles Bradley.

There are so many people who live good lives with their dreams unrealised. For every person who is remembered by millions are millions who aren't remembered by anyone, and I don't know why; why there just doesn't seem to be enough room for someone who has something they want to say. People talk about the democratisation of things like music through the internet, presupposing that everyone has access to the internet, and that the internet is somehow free of the constraints of commercialism. It makes me sad and afraid to think of what we are missing; the potential in countries in Africa where precious people are dying and dying, the political poets like Rodriguez whose voices are subject to record sales, and the kids in my city who won't get the choice of going to university or even knowing if they love things because there isn't money. It scares me to think of what might be wasting away in me, or which of the figs on my Bell Jar tree are shrivelling while I stand, stock-still, not knowing what to do while I do what I have to so that I can eat and pay for internet.

So there are millions; billions of people, walking around, living. Cooking. Building. Bringing up babies. These things have their own legacies, and use, and meaning. They are more interesting and valuable than a million things that are in the spotlight (72 hour marriages etc).  But we have so little time to say what we need to say in a lifetime, that sometimes only certain mediums will do; things that have to be said on-stage.

This is Charles Bradley's story. And this is his song. Finally sung.


  1. Argh, I love this :) I have been thinking about similar things, like how I feel this pressure to contribute to the world in some way even if it's just by proving I'm alive. There is this pressure to be 'great', maybe because we are used to seeing life lived out on a stage as you say. There are soo many people on this planet, each life as significant as the next.. what a mind blow to even try and consider this! I miss talking like this with u at the shop he he

    1. I miss it too! I feel like all I do there is bitch, instead of thinking from new perspectives... I know exactly what you mean about proving we're alive. I bang on about having nothing to prove to anyone but I think I want to - obviously I want to be out there or I wouldn't have a blog! I'm starting to wonder if having kids isn't a little part of this. I keep thinking about how in a movie, a person walking down the street always seems like they're really doing something; I used to think the soundtrack made the difference but now I think it's the audience?