I buy a ticket for the plastic
soul train and board it with anticipation, excitement, and a little apprehension.
I have no idea where this train
will take me, but I love a good mystery tour - the journey is the majority of
the fun. So I take my seat and look around... I'm the only one on board. No
matter. The doors close and I gaze out the window, watching the world slip behind
me as I set off on my way...
...I wake up foggily, feeling as if I've lost time. Only a moment ago I was setting off on this journey, and suddenly everything has stopped. Was there some kind of accident? The sun is blaring through
the window across the aisle of the train. I feel sore, stiff, and terribly
heavy as I try to get out of my seat, and then I realize that the train car is no
longer upright. The window next to me has become the floor, the window across
from me a sun roof.
Orientation finds me and I'm able to climb out of my seat,
up to the emergency exit. I push it open and pull myself through. Carefully, I
slide down the side of the train car to the sandy ground. As I move away from
the train, my eyes adjust to the sunlight and I see that I am on a desert
island surrounded by a vast blue ocean, with coconut palm trees at the centre
of the island.
I wonder how on earth a train could travel to an island when
there is clearly no bridge to connect it to the mainland. Then it occurs to me that a soul train doesn't
travel the same way as a regular rail train. Wonderment soon gives way to
despair, as I realize I am stranded.
The sand zips noisily like a pair of corduroy trousers as I
make my way to the island's core in search of shade. As I approach a huddle of
palm trees, I notice something bizarre --even more bizarre than riding a soul train to a desert island and getting
derailed there. A record player sits upon the sand in the breezy shade, amusingly
plugged into the nearest palm tree for power, with a single record ready and waiting
for me on the turntable.
I lift the needle and the record begins to spin. Placing the
needle at the edge, I sit down under the palm tree and gaze out to sea,
listening as the music begins to play. Ain't
there one damn song that can make me break down and cry?
The thing about getting on the soul train to begin with was
that I knew it was going someplace different, someplace exotic, someplace
foreign to me. I love new places and new experiences. But sometimes it can also
be scary, when you don't know the language and you are unable to relate to the
locals. As the record continues to play, I find myself falling in and out of
daydreams. Can a heartbeat live in a fever?
The brief silence between each song brings me back to
reality. I'm still stuck on this island. Night will eventually fall. I should
really get around to building myself a shelter, getting a fire going, finding
some food. And then the music pulls me back into another daydream. He's got his eye on your soul, his hand on
your heart.
It's getting dark. A chill has found its way into the gentle
breezes that caress me from my lazy, sandy couch. Suddenly, through spontaneous
combustion, a small fire begins to burn,
warming my goosefleshed arms. A coconut drops from a nearby tree and
splits open perfectly into two cups, the milk gleaming deliciously in the
firelight. I reach over and take the gift in my hands and drink the sweet milk
hungrily. I am being taken care of here... the universe has provided. Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting
through my opened mind, possessing and caressing me.
As the fiery orange sun sets below the expanse of ocean in
front of me, the wreckage of the derailed soul train becomes silhouetted in the
distance. Instead of feeling sleepy, I begin to feel energized. Getting up off
my sandy bed, the need to dance consumes me. It's a Me Party, and I'm the guest
of honour. It's not your brain, it's just
the flame.
Sunset has given way to blackest night. All I can see is lit
by the fire that burns for me only. The Me Party is over and loneliness begins
to set in. I begin to wonder what will happen when the album is over. Am I
destined to live out the rest of my existence flipping this record over and
over and over, slipping in and out of pleasant comas? Does anyone know I'm gone? Is this my new life? Is this who I am
now, and until the end of my days? Now
can I be real?
The record stops turning and the needle moves back to its
cradle. The fire goes out, the wind begins to howl and blow fiercely. Things
suddenly seem to be moving in reverse - the sun rises in the west over the
ocean, and I'm being sucked against my will back to the soul train, through the
emergency exit window, back to my seat. Suddenly the train rights itself and
charges backward through space and time in super fast reverse, until I'm back
on the platform where I started.
The thing about the soul train is that it'll take you home,
but you're never the same.
*****
Young Americans is really still revealing itself to me. At this time, I'm not sure I fully appreciate it for what it
is. Rather than compelling me to get out my light sabre microphone and sing
along, it seems to put me into a daydreamy kind of state. Daydreaming is fun
and I will never fight the opportunity to fall in, but in that state, I end up
not entirely listening to the music, which is supposed to be the goal.
I considered giving myself more time with it to see if it would take me someplace more vivid than the daydreamy exotic island I keep finding myself on, but in the end decided that this is where it took me, and that's okay. I expect that as I continue to listen to it, my perceptions will change - and that's part of what this project is all about.
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