I have attempted several forms of writing before. One thing I always wanted to try, to learn, was writing (a non-lyrical analysis) about music. Sure, I could learn all the cool lingo and technical terminology- but I wonder… just how well can I wing it and how stylistic can it be?
Today, we try a hand at Cajun Red by Curtis.
Cajun Red starts with some simple 12 bar blues. As we move through the first 30 seconds, we’re slowed down with a feeling of soft wind and something I can only describe using the word flower. Fleur specifically, gives a similar feeling to Danny Boy — Frederick Weatherly [Specifically, the 1978 Windflower — Herb Ellis & Remo Palmier version]. The plucking of the strings feels similar to having your hair stroked through.
0:33 we are met with something gloomier. I wouldn’t call it ominous, nor would I call it depressing. It feels more like the aftermath of a reality slap, with a hi-hat that makes it feel as though you’re rushing but the composition remains calm. Like sitting in a train, on a calm and quiet day, yet the view moves so quickly. Instead of being in the train though, you’re on the outside. Finally we’re met with a little sense of accomplishment.
The song then returns to the beginning, except at the end of the lick the last note is played lower. Darker. Heavier. The part your’e next expecting is interrupted with a second voice joining.
We meet again at the chorus, with nothing to do but to enjoy a moment of familiarity and the album cover. The strings are now being plucked carefully, it’s not loud- it’s calm and inviting. The keys begin to sing a tune, and the guitar joins. Getting louder and louder with more curiosity, and end is being put to these shenanigans- going so off script. 2:12 we’re hit with a line that deflects the energy previously left on us.
…
2:45 the chorus plays again, unlike the last time it now seems quieter. Like it’s being shushed, but not whispering. The last hum passes by and suddenly the guitar is evoking a new emotion. Projecting half a sense of a slipping reality and half an attempt to get back to it. A wonky, chuncky solo begins. Feeling lost, unable to find its place in the song- it’s breaking free from routine. 3:48 A steady bass follows, the only way I imagine the drums is as if they were Pac-man but he’s running after the ghosts.
As for the rest, truly just bars. Even though this doesn’t make sense, I’m glad to have given myself and taken on a new challenge.
