i have a thought about guys like stevie wonder.
hey!
oh hey! i don’t think that mic is on.
that’s okay!
thierry, can you fix stevie wonder’s mic? this is embarrassing.
[sound of hemp-soled shoes running across brushed concrete]
okay. one second.
–
so the thought is actually less about stevie wonder and more about how i listen to him. growing up in the 1990s — in the era of nevermind — i had a kind of physiological repulsion the musical gods of the 70s. basically, anything that won– or was even nominated– for a grammy was probably filled with poison, and i stayed away from it. even now, i’m more likely to explore the minor works of ebenezer obey than actually listen to a thin lizzy record front-to-back (which, as a side note, means i hadn’t heard “little girl in bloom” until november, when someone put it on a mix for me). all the music i’d rejected as ubiquitous was actually anonymous to me.
so here comes stevie wonder –
still here!
– crashing through the fragile gates of my spirit with all this music filled with softball platitudes and bad syntatx and idealism – idealism so thick and delusional that i think god went into stevie wonder’s room while he slept and shaved off a little part of his brain. i mean, how else can you explain all the smiley nonsense?
but stevie wonder is not all smiley nonsense. [cue low drone, thierry.] part of what makes him brilliant is that he plays the fool so well, and then, just when you think it’s all deep fool, he hits you with songs about what a nasty, circular mess life is, like “living for the city” or “village ghetto land.” (in the latter, he sings in an english accent about homeless people eating trash. mean!)
it’s not that i thought stevie wonder was dumb, just uncomplicated. part of this is marketing. part of it’s self-presentation, i guess. i was telling a friend the other day that i’m predisposed to secrecy and emotionally predisposed to paranoia, so it’s easy for me to imagine stevie wonder as the mastermind of a sustained plan to manipulate the hearts and feet of black and white america while never really saying what’s on his mind, which might just be “i’m hungry” or “man, people are a drag.” i don’t know what’s behind those sunglasses, and i don’t have to. my point, i guess, is that i hear all this ambiguity in his music that i never heard before, and it makes him deep to me. i hug the showbiz shit like “ebony eyes,” especially when he shouts out for a saxohpone solo. i love when he plays his own worst enemy by singing ten different vocal lines. it’s better than the fall. it’s better than schizophrenia.
the funk is good too. i’ve been listening to a lot of dance music lately. dance music is visceral by nature but lends itself to transcendent, blank-brained states. the dirt and the heavens and nothing in between. this is a sticking point for me. the lyrics of “higher ground” — the english stuff he lets out of his mouth — are not the words worth focusing on. the words worth focusing on are in the syncopations and the way that the clavinet sounds bow and break. they are sentences and metaphors. they say “zig and strut your way to peace.” or “sir duke.” horn sections speak louder than words.
the range of emotions in these songs doesn’t just appeal to me, it circumscribes me. there are days that i wake up and can’t make it to lunch without kneeling to the beauty of the world enough to get a cramp, and during these days i stupidly believe that anything really is possible, even love, and i put words in all the wrong order just because the spirit scrambles them up. then there are other days that i think i’m capable of punching babies in the face.
alright, alright. theirry, you done diddling back there?
thierry: give me a minute.
[one minute passes]
alright!
stevie wonder: the atlanta interview (which, for legal purposes, i should disclose has taken place entirely in my head)
a: have you really been to saturn?
sw: i just got back, actually. it’s my favorite place to fly helicopters.
a: okay, so… is “have a talk with god” at all sarcastic? are you sort of mocking how weak people lean on religion? because if not… well, i just find it so hard to believe that having faith in god could make life so easy. it’s such an insanely beautiful sentiment that i almost just want to sell off everything i own and work on that kibbutz, or make that baby, and just accept that everything will work out. i mean, do you really think it’s okay to accept your own weaknesses?
sw. no.
a: wait, “no” to which question?
…
a: i think i like “if it’s magic” more than almost anything, even though it’s so corny. i mean, it’s high, high corn.
sw: sure, but i love that harp playing.
a: do you really think in syntax like “then with it why aren’t we as careful”?
sw: at times i have been given to placing, oddly, the words i sing.
a: what were you thinking about when you wrote it?
sw: i mean, i put all my thoughts there, front and center. if it’s special, then with it why aren’t we as careful as making sure we dress in style? posing pictures with a smile? you know? we sit around talking about how precious life is, and then we rush through it like bandits. we eat like we’re starving. we talk about the big truck that could hit us at any moment but we don’t even look both ways when crossing the street.
…
sw: are you crying?
a: you can see that?
sw: got a feeling, that’s all.
