There is something spellbinding about good music, that’s undisputable. Marvin Gaye, Otis Redding, James Brown, Nina Simone, they are all very different in their own right but the common denominator, aside from pure genius, is undeniable luminescence. Die-hard fans would give their first born to see musicians such as the ones aforementioned live. Today they’d just be considered “groupies.” I have a hunch that’s because to a certain degree most modern day music in general has been watered down, therefore fans and the people that follow the work of such artists tend to be diluted, or for lack of better words, not that smart. So often I feel as if I were born in the wrong era for music. There’s just so much crap to decipher these days that we don’t always have the opportunity to come face to face with that caliber of artistry. I do believe they exist and many times go without proper recognition. Then again, that sort of genius often comes with an innate desire to uphold anonymity. Where the hell is all the out of this world talent?
I decamped the proverbial fish bowl and stumbled upon some authentic shit the other day. A little Belgian belle by the name of Selah Sue came blaring through my speakers yesterday morning, stopped me dead in my tracks and made the hair on the back of my neck stand attention like a Queen’s guard. Then for about 72hrs straight I proceeded to play all her tracks in succession, one after the other, concurrently driving my husband into oblivion. It’s affirmative: Selah Sue is good music. 10-4, Roger that! She makes me want to rejoice. Damn, it’s good. Sue performs these dreamy, acoustic, Reggae- Soul sets that make you wanna go home to your lover or make you wish you had a lover.