…and the whole time I was listening to soul music — music where you can actually hear a man’s heart break - Taylor Hicks

I didn’t realize it until about an hour ago, insomniac that I am, but I think it’s time for me to actually start talking about Taylor Hicks’ music on this blog.

But, where should I start? Do I talk about a genre, a lyric, an album, an influence, an improv technique? Those are all tempting because they are analytic and concrete, and frankly, not prone to lead me into something maudlin. I do want to get to those things (except the maudlin part), and soon. But, I find in all honesty, I’ve got to start where Hicks’ music started for me, because it both defied and justified my analytic tendencies: sometimes when he sings… when he finds a way to get into a mental space where he is alone with the music, I cannot separate in my mind the music I am hearing from the emotional release I am feeling. Is this “soul music”? I don’t know, but it’s a good starting point for understanding what that is.

The following performance, though definately rough in some ways, reaches that place for me. If you’ve been listening to Hicks awhile, it’s one you’re familiar with: Ain’t No Sunshine, Smith’s Old Bar, Atlanta, ~2004? I’m starting with this because it has a lot going on in terms of interpretation, but with a minimal instrumental underlay.

So I’m wondering, what happens in a performance that creates an emotional transfer? When it happens, it’s art, not magic. So what makes it happen? One example for me in this song is the insistent harp solo, relentlessy beating down on the note, evoking pain and futility like no improv on the melody ever could. He riffs the emotion, not the tune.

When a performance reaches you on a gut level, what’s going on in the music that brings you there? What’s an example, from this song or another, that shows that?

categories: music