nice times with the wild man

Last week, I drove from IL to OH in one day with this wildman and it’s exactly as he says: “i listened to the last barr record in a car in ohio this week it is great it is catharsis”
You know when people are like, “My shit is so uncategorizable,” and you kinda have to roll your eyes, cause their shit is often completely categorizable, but they’re tryna smoke-and-mirrors you into thinking they’re elevating your mind and/or Taking It To The Next Level? Well like, whatever. Barr’s new album, Summary, is actually “uncategorizable,” insofar that he has his hands and feet in many forms, like a game of Twister (what’s cool about that is that I could actually see him playing Twister), but he doesn’t come across like some slapped-together goulash or “mash-up” or po-mo pastiche because his ideas are whole, uncensored, and appear to come out in a flash of synergy, like lightning. If you have never seen Barr, his deal is something like stream-of-consciousness talking over live drums (not like rapping per se but not like spoken word either). It’s also like you’re listening in on his intimate convos with his therapist (hence “catharsis”). I was reading the lyric sheet and, when he wasn’t taking me into self-analytical mind-spiral, I was thinking how they, the lyrics, are the vocalization of his distilled brain down to every last tic, including the parts that everyone has where you second-guess your thoughts. It is self-reflexive, but it is not self-indulgent; it is, in fact, generous in its honesty and wide-eyed desire to… bond? I guess? This album is more “Barr’s Brain Haus” than the last, because it is more personal, less political (explicitly), and exposes his own heretofore-unexplored-on-record true sadness. (Barr is also, p.s., unfazably positive.) The effect of both the words, and the actual motion of the words, is totally mesmerizing, and reaches this deep place — I think his whole MO is making connections like Alaister Cooke (but between ppl not like, medeival spits and clocks) — and he, by being completely honest and real, reaches this visceral transcendance that is (ahem) uncategorizable but has elements of rhythm, music, performance art and, like, therapy. Anyway he is my favorite and I wish I could objectively talk about his shit but it’s too close to home. (Because you know, I, too, am the missing link between rhythm and therapy.)
Anyway, listening to Barr in a car with Wildman was excellent, and a distraction from the Ohio highway’s endless monotony and/or intimidating road signs. Also, listening to Barr was way better than listening to evangelical Christians on the radio. No dis to non-scary Ohioans, word to Cleveland and the dudes from This Moment in Black History for dancing with us to James Brown and trying very hard to keep us up until 4 am. even though we had to get on a plane in like, two hours. Word to the song “We Fly High.”
Double word to the lady bartending at the seedy Cleveland roadhouse who had a haircut like both Prince circa 1986 AND Vanilla Ice ca. 1991.
Triple word to the DC-based environmental protection lawyer in the airport bar.
Infinity word to the veteran in the airport bar who bought everyone drinks because he had just been laid up for five months after being shot in Iraq.