‘HUSTLER’
The voice sang plaintively of Tinseltown.
She knew he was gone…
Her diction sinewy, appealing,
For really she loved him anyway…
Thoughtfully, I drove on.
Soldier set the clutch foot tapping,
Though cowboy boots wore I none.
Her delivery was willowy, revealing:
Good ol’ country, out of L.A…
And thus spurred, I motored on…
The Hustler could sing a tune, it seemed.
But I saw myself there…
The backing vocals rose, exuberantly
To an uplifting crescendo…
And I drove through the despair.
The pain felt in her Dreary Head was clear.
The tune soured to impair…
Her strain sang disdainfully,
Would the loneliness breed sadness?
And still I motored, yet who would care?
Strangely empowered by a rich rendition,
The rhythm thrummed at the soul…
Her voice, endeared by strings, dramatic,
The radio silence and One Night Stands forgiven…
I then accelerated, now on a roll.
Wistful White Shoes ground deep
In the catacombs of the chest,
Played like a slide-trombone, theatric.
No more the scribe in a pharaoh’s tomb,
I travelled on, the tears repressed…
Daughtry's Tennessee Line, came to mind with
One of My Kind. And rich red wines…
A swing-beat, the voice reaped energy,
Seeping to pluck thrill from within,
As I accelerated past highway signs…
Hovering vessels tossing on tides,
Slave Ships rustled a gentle beat…
Wave-licked boats, rocking, twangy,
Insistent, airy, breeze-blown.
I travelled alone on an unknown street…
The hinted haunting of Fun With Us,
Slowed the mind, held the tension.
Bluesy maybe. I narrowed my gaze…
Taking in words, searching for meanings,
I drove, I listened, despite journey’s intervention…
The sun always overtakes the moon:
In pharaoh’s time by the Scarab pushed…
The cadence drifting, easy in haze,
Accompanying me to my destination, for
All Roads Lead To Home and I had driven, hushed…
Pete Ray
March 2016
Listened to ‘Hustler’, a debut (?) album by Marie Danielle on a drive from Solihull, UK, to Northampton, where I watched and reported upon a soccer game between Sileby Rangers and Holbeach United.
The above is what I felt whilst listening to the 10 tracks.
The reference to Daughtry’s ‘Tennessee Line’ was due to a similar acoustic sound behind the vocals in ‘One of My Kind’.
The catacombs, a pharaoh’s tomb, the sun overtaking the moon, loneliness and sadness references were all sung about by the artist but I identified with these, having spent some years dressed as an Egyptian scribe, whilst teaching in Birmingham Museum, UK.
The Scarab beetle was indeed responsible for pushing the sun, like a giant dung-heap across the sky each day, according to ancient Egyptians…
I liked that.
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