Womp womp womp

Tell me, are you the dub to my step? Cuz I think I’m falling in wub wub wub with you.

yaaaaa I know it’s cheesy, but I like it.

Music is a big part of me. I know that’s cheesy to say too. Can’t help that it’s true. My dad is a musician. A bass player at that. The first time he put me in front of a speaker stack at a large outdoor venue and said, “feel this…” I just looked at him like, “ta’ fuck? the performers are over there, on the stage, facing the crowd, why are we over in a corner by ourselves not being able to see shit?” Ya, I was 13. But given that he was a foot taller than me and had me by the shoulders, I stood still face all screwed up in a scowl and then… WOMP! WOMP! WoOoOoOoOMP! The bass poured into me. The vibrations washed through me. Every part of me got quiet and then whispered more.

I stared at the configuration of speakers that literally changed the beat of my heart. I wanted to run up and give it a hug; to wrap my arms around it and melt into the sound. My dad just beamed with the smug as fuck Clark I told you so smirk on his face, “Not bad, eh?”

And so a love affair with speaker stacks far and wide began. I could give a fuck about how well a front man seduces the crowd, how a performer entrances an audience with hips and dips and impassioned pleas to jump jump and throw your hands up. Where is the sound coming from? I like when singers close their eyes in order for their words to carry. My eyes are closed too.

When E went to his first middle school dance a few months ago, he’d been so caught up in the drama of friends and who was ‘going’ with who he ignored the point of the dance was to in fact dance. When I dropped him off I wondered if he would enjoy himself. When I picked him up a few hours later, I could tell he was in love. He had that sweaty glow. “Mom! The music was so loud! So good! Oh my god I danced the whole time.” Of course you did, hon. Nothing dissipates bullshit drama like a good solid thick dense pool of beats.

Womp womp womp