Some musicians love music.
It’s not just in what they say.
It’s in their music.
A love, a driving force behind guitar strums and overlaid vocals.
I think about this as I push play on Hunters’ “Que Sera, Sera” for the third time today.
Throughout the album I hear pieces that remind me of some of my favorite artists.
The opening to “Smooth Seas Never Made for a Skilled Sailor” reminds me of O’Death before hitting Tom Waits-esque phrasing; the aforementioned “Que Sera, Sera” reminds me of Eisley and Veruca Salt.
I’m not trying to say that Hunter sounds like a bunch of different artists.
The point I’m trying to make is there are certain musicians that ARE music. They tap into a collective musicality, a wellspring that all great musicians have access to.
It’s dark outside, being after midnight. It’s no longer humid and the dew has already settled on the grass.
Apparently there is a bear somewhere in the neighborhood.
The world seems to be going to shit one protest at a time.
I use my headphones as armor.
If there is music, hate cannot touch my life.
I turn up the volume.
Hunter reached out to me after my last music review to tell me she liked it, and I found out she is a musician.
She asked me to have a listen to her album. The one I’m listening to now.
She didn’t ask for anything more.
I listened to it.
I listened to it again.
Then bought the album.
Then listened again.
The bugs are making music, a very droning nature sound that will be here long after I’m dead.
The buzz of ever-present, unseen nature.
That’s the essence of music.
It’s forever, it’s eternal.
I know that’s the same thing, but take each one with different sentiments.
When Hunter messaged me I could tell she was young, giddy, excited and passionate.
Her music is the same.
It’s youthful in a way that makes it never grow old.
It’s giddy in the way that it makes you tap your feet, then bob your head, and eventual you feel the need to dance.
It’s excited in the way that it increases your heart rate, puts a smile on your face.
It’s passionate…well, just listen, you can hear her passion for music in EVERY song.
I asked her – why music?
I wasn’t sure how this review was going to go.
But, Hunter surprised me with her answer.
She told me her story about growing up and learning instruments. Bob Dylan to put her to sleep, Beatles quizzes at breakfast.
I wasn’t sure how I was going to do this review. I’m not one to do the typical “this is good, you should listen to it” type of review. I want a review that is akin to the music.
I wasn’t sure what to do until Hunter said “I would do improv on every instrument to find the words I really wanted to say.”
Think about that for ten seconds. I’ll wait.
Music is her voice.
The last song on the album, “Vagabond” comes on. I can hear a very distinct Bob Dylan sounding harmonica lick in there, because, as her dad said – “Because Dylan Rocks.”
It makes me smile, the way an old memory does.
Hunter changed her name.
From what, I don’t know.
But it fits her.
Her music is on the warpath. Her music is a tiger in the jungle, eyes twinkling and claws ready.
Her voice is strong and Nina-Simone-Raw.
It’s the voice of Artemis – a cry of protection, of love. I listen, hate cannot touch me.