I remember listening to Barry driving up to hockey practice when I was ten years old, my father had it blasting, the standard tunes, "My Everything", "Can't Get Enough of Your Love", etc. In today's world he would probably be in jail for some type of sexual offense, there would probably be some shrink that would convince me that he touched me in a certain way and my father would spend the rest of his life in jail on a bullshit charge. Even though at the time I had no idea what the man was truly speaking of his music resonated within me. How could a voice like that not? Impossible.
Barry White taught a lot of men (well at least the ones who were listening) that it doesn't matter how fat you were (as BW was a big boy) nor did it matter how sub par you looks were (he wasn't the best looking fellow) you could still get laid with one thing: Swagger. As a man who never had any homosexual tendencies, having that soul, bass, ridden voice echo in my ear....well I would be hard pressed to not give the man some action. Years later after those rides to hockey practice I would remember my first experiences in the realm of love (in a terrible cliche) formed on this man's music.
You can have your Marvin Gaye and Al Greene and whomever else could be construed as love making music but nothing comes close to Barry. Somehow it even transcends the physical act itself. Tonight as I write this after many drinks in multiple places I found myself home alone. Somewhere in the course of the night this song was played and it came to me as an old friend.
So I am here in a robe, alone and in the most non-sexual atmosphere imaginable, writing this on my laptop trying to hit the correct keys in my drunkenness. I put this song on as it had been stuck in my mind for the entire night. The thing about it is the groove is still there, the bass line, the tempo and most importantly the lyrics blasted out by a three hundred plus pound man with enough attitude to serenade and seduce the world, as well as myself through my shitty speakers, echoing off of my old plaster walls.
It is a beautiful experience. No one encapsulates what it is like to be in love, to have a ten hour, sweaty, change the sheets after while drinking champagne session more than this man. It should only be reserved for those that deserve such a night. As a single man in New York there have been a plethora of opportunities that have breached the threshold of my door but only a few who have been worthy of a Barry playlist. He is the forty year old scotch, the '51 Bollinger champagne of the music realm and only broken out when it is truly warranted and deserved.
