Barbee's stuff just hits, sounds straight like a bee-line back through bedrooms, garages, picks.
Back to when it was man manipulating ma- chine, and not the other
way 'round. Just human hands, white nails, and some strings, plucking.
And just one here-and-there hi-hat and one woodblock. The simple sound of it,
just pins for the groove to move on.
This is the second time one of Ray's songs has inspired me to write a poem. If you haven't heard "A Word Aptly Spoken," I would definitely give it a listen.