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Longmont, CO

thoughtcassette is a lifelong art project created by Denver Lewis, focused on visual poetry & prose.

poetry & prose.

Scott & Seth are Older & Other Thoughts on Cassette

Denver Pittman

This. This is the thing about Music—it is made to move you. There is something alluring beneath its majestic pulsing and it tugs at your body inside until there is nothing left, but the notes. And the words that pour from the lips of those who truly adore its message. And there is something about the flippant nature and swinging locks of the small-town boys from North Carolina that captures that feel. churns it around, swirling and spinning, until you know not what is up or down, but only what is true. And from the thousands around me that stood beneath the rocks last night to hear Avett Let Their Colors Show, I am not alone in the feeling. Tears streamed in wide-eyed wonder. I am dichotomous. All around me, libations and human beings connecting to one another. Not for the boys, but for each other. And they are older and more beautiful and aged, these two. It is no secret that, over time, they have developed and honed their sound. Perhaps, for some, in more ways than we remember even being possible. The notes bend and shake around my ears, and I am in Heaven. And, back to that thing about Music. It moves me, backwards and forwards until I am drunk with emotion beneath the breathtaking Colorado sky. I am here And at the same time, I am riding in the backseat of a car in high school and there is that music again. Right there in the moments. I am on someone’s back porch and stories are being exchanged like glances. There are the same drenched chords, heavy rhythms that pounce into my soul and take a little staycation. Wiggling into the vibrations of my heartbeat and taking up space in my lungs. It is actually intoxicating. And I am having trouble breathing. They are with me in the teenage wasteland, in my car, alone, and with them. It is cold & winter in Georgia.The song, not even produced, on frigid emotions, but existing in my life. It was Winter in my Heart. In a field, in the middle of a sticky summer, in unfamiliar places, traveling down endless highway roads. They were there, right there in the speaker, sitting beside me. Burned in my memory, seared into my thoughts. And there is something about this, these words that have been wrapped around my consciousness for so long. They are not only mine or yours, but everyones—interpretation is hard to share. And so standing, and staring, smiles on the faces. my heart splits in half, ridden with joy and pain. This is the idea of music, that it must be shared and given. An even exchange. And yet, so intimate to my own nature, I have become selfish. I am a breathing Time Machine, my lashes wet with sweat & euphoria. I stand in this dichotomy, I want to belong to the songs like they have always belonged to me. It feels strange, but the fame allows for the passion. And this venue, this crowd, this energy, never available to the independent. And so, No, Avett has not sold its soul, but only made that red, lush, beating heart a little slower. Perhaps, a little less anxious. Which, after all, is healthy. The blood pressure valve, a squeaky release. And no, not in the least bit less important, only Not the Same. And so, walking away, guilty for feeling any emotion less than gratitude. Expectations, always the enemy, Boatloads of Shame. Learning, it is important to look upon change for what it is, rather than a reflection of the past. And the boys are still teaching me, right now, as I write. And who knew, this art form could hold such leverage. They have brought me to here. And will carry me Home. And I can confess that perhaps I was Wrong About The Reasons For Us Falling Out of Love.

I Want To Fall Back In.