No One Move. I Can’t Find My Words.
The first time I heard Jason Mraz’s “You and I Both,” I was half woken up in the middle of the night by my TV, which was left on, along with all the lighting in my apartment (apologies, universe). In my interrupted state of REM, Jason was an ironic figment of my imagination, a sleepy-eyed little Kafka waltzing around in a bank to the requiem of my freshly failed 3.5-year relationship. My brain actually diverted its attention from my breakup-inspired bank of dream fodder to listen to the song. It was … cheerfully poignant.
His voice was sweet, holding on to the words only loosely enough to string them together. He didn’t weigh himself heavily on them, the way some singers do. The way some writers and thoughts do. He loved the words from a comfortable distance, letting them dangle and dance and do whatever it is words like to do when left to their own devices. There wasn’t a cringe-inducing desperation in his rhymes. They were easy. And painfully light. Failed human relationships aside, he had a good rapport with his words.
Recently, I went to see Jason live. I’m not much of a live-music person (my eyesight is terrible, I can’t pry my eyes open enough to pop in a contact lens, let alone two, and I rarely wear my glasses at night. But I digress…)
I’d explain why I loved his performance so much, but I can’t really find the words. You see, mr. “a-to-the-z” inflated, twisted and reshaped them into balloon animals so I can’t recognize them. Clever wordsmith, that mraz. I have yet to find them.
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