Stevie Wonder’s Power Flower – Stream Of Thought Music Review
Cats for heat and the Secret Life of Plants By: Andersen Jankins
Sometimes the best part is the hard part. Filet is good but gristle gives you something to do. Something to chew. Mastication as an activity like gum chewing was something soldiers participated in during wartime. The behavior distracting from the horrors of war. The clench and release if the jaw relieving stress. In ‘99-’00 we had a Magnavox boombox that chewed up compact discs and helped us relieve stress. In fact, it provided enjoyment that kept us warm through a very cold winter.
The World We Lived In
We lived in what resembled a dilapidated clap board beach house. The only source of heat was furnace towards the back of the house where the drafty door, too short for the frame stood offering no protections from what cold drafts pounded from outside. It was then, in my 21st year I began to keep booze at the house. With the little money we made liquor was bought.
The 24 pack of the imported beer brought friends over that could provide some warmth and distraction. We were young and mercurial then often the song Power Flower would start the night.
That Brick Pack
Once Marvin got the CD push started in the boombox he feverishly clicked the forward button to track 7. Luke warm beers rushed from the fridge popped open and Mexican brick pack sheathed in dry tobacco leaves added their fragrance to Friday.
/Pan is my name/I live outside the door/ I have to keep the score of things around you/
/Fire and air /With water I prepare
The zodiac blended on these nights in new ways. A crab would end up crooning. A few rams butting heads over who would take first harmony in the sing along. The scales recede into the background shying away from the contact. Too many cars stealing spots hiding from a tow meant standing room only on these cold nights.
Howlin’ at the moon.
“Man, what’chall tryin to get into?”
“Who’s that? Comin up the drive, Rudy?”
The familiar voice of the ageless character with a moniker lifted from a married tycoon marooned on a deserted island approached the door. He’d followed us from a former outpost cause he knew we were always good on tea and it was always tea time. When he arrived it was always to announce big things were in store.
I am the piper at the gates of dawning/ It’s not magic / It’s not madness/ Just the elements of style/ And I guarantee faithfully/ I will never go/ Until all is said and done/ In a twinkling I’ll be gone
Well sang something then
Oh yeah we heard and seen this one before. He’s got a new artist to manage. “Sing something for them, now. C’mon man.” Wishing he would hurry up and pass that cause we were just about to step out to set up the open mic we were late for.
Now it’s only cold when you are dragged back into reality to find your keys, lighter and pack of stögs. “Yo close that door!” as people all start to trail out to their cars. Frost on the windshield signals the need to warm up the jalopy.
“I’ll meet yall there!”
“He riding with his girl!”
Cackles into the night.
/ Well, excuse me, I have so much more to do/
Stevie Wonder, Michel Sembello. Power Flower (1979).
Andersen Jankins is a contributor from Queens, New York.