Charles Bradley rolls in to town on a song and a prayer
It’s hard to watch a 60 year old man settle down to bed under tattered blankets in a dank basement. But it’s doubly tragic when you know the man is in possession of one of the most soulful voices of his generation. “I don’t have a life,” Charles Bradley says as he describes how he spends most of his meagre resources taking care of his elderly mother. Nor does he have a career.
A music genre is like a box of chocolates: EAT IT
Ask somebody what type of music they like and they’ll name a genre. Rap, hip hop, alternative, indie, metal, classical, jazz, folk. Sometimes, if you’re in outlying territory, or at Thanksgiving, you might even hear country. Who cares. It’s rarely honest anyways. Am I going to admit that sometimes I like country? No. And you didn’t hear it from me either. Why do we define music by these kinds of genres anyways? There are other genres, and my favourite of them is Beautiful.