Have a sip…and keep sippin’

Creativity arises out of a feeling. A feeling that surfaces as an unexpected response to a single source or multiple sources that ships you into a new depth never previously experienced. When you have the tools to paint that feeling, the subjectivity of intention and purpose means nothing. Rather, you are recreating the significance of that emotional connection.

Music is just one of those tools that creativity manipulates to tug at my emotional strings. Whether I am creating or receiving the product of ingenuity that is music, it tends to break me, build me, and fix me every time.

We all develop an emotional connection to a song that we like. Whether or not we classify it as “good music” or “bad music” is not the focus for me. When creating music, every artist has a level of originality that stands out above others. The source and depth of their inspiration can vary, but when we consume that music we either connect, or it fails to resonate.

Beyoncé showed me the significance of allowing myself to connect emotionally, not only with the music but the sensation behind it.

When Lemonade dropped, all hell broke loose. Everyone was yearning for the world premiere of an album from a pretty seasoned artist. Nothing was going to stop me from listening and critiquing the hype that enveloped the bittersweet title. No one was expecting the presented product. But I continued watching the world premiere, soaking up the visuals, feeling the music.

Everything about this album was great at the time. Obviously, listeners were trying to figure out who “Becky with the good hair” was, and I laughed on Twitter along with them. As I was enjoying the music, the early music reviews, and the detective work to find “Becky,” I was immediately struck by one particular song: “Sandcastles.” By this time, Beyoncé had reached her emotional peak, and she is now reflecting on all that she just went through on the album.

I was feeling it for a minute. The beginning of the song had me hooked early. “Sandcastles” built me up for an incredible, tear-jerking, play-this-on-repeat kind of finish. And then the second verse came. She lost control vocally, and then I stopped. I was pissed. I pressed play on my TV again and fought through the rest of her vocal imperfection leading up to her recovery of a third verse. I listened to every song after that with no shame, but I could not forget that second verse. As a singer myself, it hurt me. I felt conflicted. I couldn’t wrap my head around how an impeccable vocalist could be deafeningly lazy on what became the most significant verse of the song.

For a few weeks, I would listen to that album and skip “Sandcastles.” I hated that song because I did not want to connect. I did not want to believe that she could be that lazy. I didn’t want to conceive the idea that a man would cheat on the “baddest chick in the game,” and this is how she experienced it. That struck me as a man because I didn’t want to believe that I could do such a thing to any woman. It was at this moment of enlightenment that I took a sip of Lemonade and tasted the bitterness. It was at this moment that Beyoncé taught me the art of delivery.

Beyoncé’s lack of vocal control served its purpose. It forced me to take a sip of reality that faces women in their relationships with men. Even when you are at your highest level, you can still get hurt. That pain can cause anyone to lose control for a stretch. But even after you lose control you can still recover, forgive, and build on a new foundation. Sandcastles can look incredible until the wind sweeps the façade away, and you are left with nothing but pure, granulated, and hot sand.

Beyoncé delivered a monumental album with Lemonade. Not solely because of the lyrics, but because of her delivery. Lemonade was an intense work of art. The source was her emotional connection, which tugged at my sentiments and morality as a man. She was strong. Bey helped me realize what I did not want to be, but she also gave me a significant gift. Beyoncé allowed me to sit with her music and let it connect.

I do not have a problem with a lot of the music that is out there. Some genres I’ve never been exposed to and others just do not resonate with me. We live in a time where instant gratification leads to snap judgments and premature “classics” in the form of quick music reviews. It’s time to get back to taking a sip and enjoying the process of connecting to the creativity. If we swallow too much too quickly, we’ll choke.

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