Psalm 22

Chapter 3

EVERYONE CAN AGREE when I say this is their sincerest album to date. I worked with my writeup for two weeks and they did six months for the album, tweaks here and there not counted, and it took another year for the lyric video to come out, a bunch of art from the album itself was slowly shown to the audience through various social media. 

They marketed the album like never before: they released a trailer for 1993. Who does that? A trailer of their own, for an album. Imagine a voice-over showcasing the album. It gets better, though. Underneath Your Tongue collaborated with a performing arts group and had a live show where they used their music, old and new, as the piece the dancers would interpret and practice with.

Interviews were done by the frontman. There was this one podcast where they talked about a particular song, chopped it up, and explained the technicalities when creating the song, where the sounds were coming from and what device they used. 

We all loved the project and were so proud of it. 

Fast forward to a year and a half later, the narrative we planned from the beginning was reduced to a Climate change advocacy: where not everyone really takes you seriously, some understood the focal points and references used in the project and those first-time listeners shrugged the songs off as another ‘mainstream’ album coming from a very vocal group. I can understand where they are coming from. We tried to get as much theme into the album, hence why it felt like it has many cooks in one kitchen. 

“Welcome to Adulting with Kendra Leynard and this is your host, Kendra. For those who are following me on various social media, you already know who’s my guest for today! Yes, it’s my darling friend and fave writer, Francess Vyn! Y’all, I’m gonna call her Iska, but y’all can’t call her that. Friend privilege, okay, sweetheart.”

“Just call me Cess, then, I don’t mind them calling me that. In social media, that is.” 

“Sure, hon. Of course, they will probably haunt your social media. Anyway, welcome to my podcast. It’s your first time in my podcast, right?” 

“Babe, first time ever! I’m so excited!”

“Oooohh, really? Guys, we’re crammed here in my little office so this kinda sucks for her. Ugh, I should have upgraded my workspace.” 

“True. It’s fine, really, maybe next time you’d invite me over when this place is already upgraded.” 

“Don’t mind the mess of my office. Tell us about this project you collaborated with. It’s Underneath Your Tongue, everyone. Grammy winner 2012.”

“It’s really a blessing that I was called for this project. Quick backstory, it was August, hottest night of the year, when the news broke the entire nation. Some fu/ckup mayor gets away with the ra/pe-slay case against him and it was so tragic I felt powerless. And I’m not the type who will organize an event to make a statement against said ugly mayor. 

"You won’t see me rallying on the streets. I don’t write s**t about the ugly side of this country, and I want to change that. It was different that night. I was so close to losing my s**t and I actually put the news aside because I know I’m gonna be that person who doesn’t do any proactive thing in her goddamn life. When I thought I’d give up, I compiled everything about this massive headline and sent it to everyone I know. The next morning, there I was. We were all ready to make a change.” 

“Yeah, how’d it go? We all know the mayor is still set to be released for his so-called parole sometime in the future. What difference did you think your actions made?”

“The project moves forward as an eye-opening for several themes they decided to put. It’s up to the audience what they do with the info placed at their hands. I’d say, it’s in the hands of the audience what they want to do. We, the people behind the project, donated to the rainforest fire, held an event to kickstart donations to various charities. The EJK, ra/pe, all that, is a slow approach method. We try to get involved in any way we can.”

“Have you noticed any shift in the fanbase of the band? Do you think they are woke now?”

“Oooff, hard to tell. They can be during the first five minutes then move on to the next. We tend to have a short attention span with these kinds of things.”

“Sure. Personally, I’d say people are awakened and aware. I mean, me. When you got me involved in the situation, I was like, wow, so this is how it feels to be in a community. The next time this happens again, people won’t turn a blind eye. And that’s important. How was the overall experience?”

“Oh, man. What a di/ck ride.”

“Come again, harder?”

“Girl, the negativity we received, my god! There are di/cks and then there are serious assholes. I’ve encountered so many of them during the brainstorming, I mean outside the area where the brainstorming happens. They knew there was a mass gathering of artists, lots of artists. We were legit scared they might do something drastic, like, I don’t know, bomb the place. But despite that, a lot of people believed in our cause. And that is to spread awareness. People are done. We’re fed up. We’ve gone to ashes and back and we don’t want any part of this. Enough is enough.”

“Right on, sister.”

“Some people legit thought the album would flop. But I dare you to take a listen and come back here after you’re done, then let’s talk.”

“Hmm, you have to take into account not all, some, but not all like these kinds of songs? But I do. It’s a smash hit for me.”

“Okay, define this album. Please. Maybe if they hear it from you, they’ll take a chance on it.”

“Oh, okay. No hate, guys. Okay, hear me out. This twelve-tracked album is out of this world. How so, you ask, if it’s just bops and beats of percussion and strings. Well, first, how they lay out every calculated beeps and bops you call into the song, then comes the verses—now, for this part, CJ likes to write it in a way that is incoherent and marriages between words that you wouldn’t imagine being put together will surprise you and it’ll cling to you. So after the verses, smashed together with the ethereal production of sounds, not always ethereal, imagine if all is same, ew, boring. As I was saying, when it’s done and you’re there listening and you feel that pang of guilt, pain, heartache, longing—it’s a tragic love story. You are married to the album. An album that is unfaithful.”

“Yeah, but that’s mildly putting it, Kends.”

“How’d you put it in the simplest form?”

“You can find out my take on it if you buy an LP. Better grab your copy of the album, it’s all there. Flexi, pins, artbook, write prompts, fu/cking poster. Just—just go and order it. Now!”

“Oh, come on, Iska! Pretty please?”

“Well, babe, ultimately—I’m talking to you, you beautiful creature, you, on the other side of the device you’re listening to—it’s your take on it that’s important, the target audience. We wanna know what you think about it, we want you heard. The LP is out there, we will be heard. And now that it is released, it’s your time to speak up. So, please post your reactions in any platform, tag us, tweet us, mention us, you know the drill. We’re in this together, man.”

Shortly after the podcast, I met with Pindet and we had coffee. “Sorry for texting you like that. Heard the album was out and I also heard you were in it,” said Pindet.

“Yeah, no, it’s okay. I had free time after my short interview with a friend. He’s doing a bunch of interviews with other artists involved as well. Have you listened to it?” I asked, pertaining to the album. We sat in a plain coffee shop. They just have three tables for staying customers. Most of their customers order on-the-go coffee. Apart from that, they have another four tables outside. 

“I attended another advanced listening party. Thought it was too much?” he said hesitantly. He was afraid to say it at first. 

“Oh, heck, man. You don’t have to shy away from your real feelings. It’s fine. I had the same realization. But! That was during the first listen and eventually, I changed my mind about it,” I said.

“Hmm. I am not really feeling any of the songs. I enjoy them but that’s it,” he said like he’s too disappointed about himself.

“You might change your mind if you venture more about what surrounded the album. I’m talking about the interviews, podcasts, writeups, everything that is on paper and on the Internet is at your hands, pal. You’d understand more where the songs came from.”

“But isn’t that why the album exists? Like, that’s the purpose why it existed in the first place. To tell you stories about it while listening to it. To evoke feelings. Not everyone likes a branched out album. Too many branches to check out. Interviews, podcasts, etc.”

I raised my eyebrow. “You’re just complaining now, Det. If you have the LP, the stories that several writers created will greet you with open arms. At this agE, everyone has access to the Internet. Just, for example, follow this subreddit Underneath your tongue and redditors post news about the band. It’s so much easier that way. If you don’t want to, then go ahead and read what came with the LP.” 

“Why are you defending a shitty album?” he snapped.

I half-smiled, almost smirked. “So, it’s shitty now?”

He didn’t respond.

“Well, at least tell me the message didn’t get lost in the process?” Hopelessly and breathlessly I asked.

He smiled sadly and knew I was not magnificent.

***

KURT AND I WERE by the grocery and idly walking all over the aisle number seven, not even glancing at my list of things to buy. I was just walking aimlessly but I like to look at the different brands and prices of noodles. “You picking something here?” Kurt asked me from the end of the line. 

“Eh.” I looked at my list and decided to take instant noodles. We walked to the dairy section and once again stood there like a bunch of idiots loitering the path towards the ice cream. “Yeah, I want the mango sorbet.” I took it and Kurt chose the red velvet cake. 

“Anything else?” he asked. I was staring at the new Oreo ice cream so he snatched my list and muttered under his breath. 

“Jesus Christ, Francess.”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s go shopping, properly,” he said. I grunted. 

The light coming from the refrigerator was shining against his face and I noticed that he was tired. “You okay?” I asked him as he turned his back on me. 

I followed him everywhere as he picked everything on my grocery list. After that, we went to the parking lot and sat inside while I waited for Kurt to finish rolling his baby. I rolled the window down and he shared his maria. As I puffed the smoke through the window, a family came by and the parents were quick to drag their kids on the opposite side so they wouldn’t inhale what I was puffing out.

“That ain’t nothing new,” Kurt said while looking at the family of four. 

“What?” I asked, confused.

“This week took a turn for the worst,” he answered. “Oh, tell me about it, boy,” I said rhetorically. 

“CJ and co are taking the heat for the album. Can’t believe that shit.”

“You’re right. It ain’t new. People who are responding toward the vile can be seen as an intruder. They’re so scared of the unfamiliar. We just want people to acknowledge the fact that the clown sitting in the iron throne is not doing any relevant s**t to our country. And instead of helping our own, they say s**t about Underneath? Like, eh, have you decided that on your own or was it the hive mind ensued so you just feel like hating on it ‘coz the whole world is doing exactly that? Thanks, geez.” I’ve repressed these thoughts for the whole day. That was what I was doing inside the market. I was trying to toy with my brain, not to respond to the obvious senses I’m receiving, because god this is so fu/cking draining. 

“I was so involved in the project, you know,” said Kurt. “I was sure there would be clueless people who’d get dragged into the ‘basher’ side. But I’ve visited lots of stores and they always put the newly released album into the farthest section. You have to look for it if you’re planning on buying it. s**t’s disgusting. Everyone is in on it. I know some people who regretted getting involved in it in the first place.” 

“Yeah, my family told me to remove my work or hide my name for the work I’ve contributed to the album.” The glove compartment was slightly opened. I asked Kurt if he has any disposable spoon, the one you get from drive-thrus and never used so you just store it somewhere in your car for future use. I do that a lot. And I always keep them in the compartment. 

“What’d you need it for?” he asked but opened the compartment wider. I took out my mango sorbet and opened it. “This,” We both feasted with the sugary delight. 

“So what are you doing now?” asked Kurt in between eating and smoking. 

“We all know I lost my job. Congrats, self. So I write twenty-four thousand words pure of young-adult cringey romance. It’s a fulfilling job at the end of the day. I’m glad the publishing house accepted me as their writer. I’m given all the freedom a writer could hope for as long as I write romance bullshit stories that would make all the ovaries quake. I was good at my job. I was, I think,” I said those last words as an afterthought. It stings. I want to puke out these horrifying feelings in my gut.

“Man, you had to know the way it goes,” he commented. 

“I feel like you’re just quoting songs, fu/cking s**t” I gnawed at my melting sorbet. It’s not even that good. 

“I feel like you have too much anger in you, you fu/cker, s**t,” He offered me something to nibble aside from the melting coldness of what was once a sorbet.

“Can we still rise from this?” I asked, expecting as if my life depended on his answer. I thought the mass would be more open to a wide variety of known issues in this country. Seems like their skulls were crushed open and out came the pea-sized brain of these idiots who went high and above to spread hate towards the album and they convinced a lot of people to boycott and hinder the band from producing anything anymore, from performing, and all that s**t. How did that happen? Who knows. Who knows anymore now that my sources dropped me like a fu/cking easily-discarded piece of furniture in your Friday evening where the garbage collector comes to take you into the garbage town where I feel like a lot of people think I belong to. 

He shrugged his shoulders and didn’t answer. I was looking at a dead tired man in his thirties preparing to go bankrupt anytime soon by his lawyers and his soon-to-be ex-wife. I was the one who asked him to go to the market to grocery shopping because the man has been such a downer these past few days. If I thought I was the buzzkill, this man is just dead inside. We are neighbors and we could’ve chilled in his house and watch some documentaries about serial killers but I doubt it would be the best decision since his house reeks of divorce, darkness, and dog. His dog’s old, by the way, if you know what I mean. You’d say we could hang out at my place. Yeah, no, thanks. I live with two other chicas who are all about booze, guys, staying up late kinda lifestyle. I feel like I don’t know them anymore. I drifted so much apart I am drowning from my own piss of sorrow. It’s tearing me up.

“So…?” Kurt didn’t even finish his sentence. I looked away and just said to drop me off.