There is a song out there. You've heard the world humming along to the tune. Maybe you saw the full arena performance by that top ten, self-help songster belting it out from centre stage while running barefoot over beds of hot coals? You'd know it. It's always played on one wave length, or another. It goes a little something like this
"Extroversion is good. Introversion is bad."
I dug it so much I bought the whole album. After all, it makes sense, doesn't it? In our life and times. The wide world wrote the lyrics and its staccato commands sell it well - 'Charisma, charm, wit, risk. Be entertaining. Be employable. Get out there. Make friends. Be popular.' But the message is most of all, for pity's sake, don't be so sensitive.
I tried to sing along for years, but could never quite commit to that number. The melody just always sat out of my range. Booze and fags helped my performance, to a point. But without them, the show had no conviction.
Then Susan whispered a different tune. It was quiet, but catchy and hit my gut's chord. Her sweet serenade sent the other song out of my head. In the right moment that song is the only one to play, but, well, I boogie to that, no longer.
Shyness has it's beauty. It's a quiet, soulful hymn. It requires a closer listen but there can be genius in it. Introversion is not a dirty word, nor is silent retreat. This is the music that keeps the hearts and minds of the sensitive souls of the Earth in rhythm.
To be made to feel out of step for struggling socially, for shyness, this is madness. Sometimes, doesn't everyone long to leave the wide world mosh pit? We don't all want to rock the dance floor all night long but, sometimes aren't we happier to head home early, solo, for a hot milo? To watch a late night subtitled film on the couch while wrapped in a blanket? To tinker with our own tune for a while, without the blurts and squeals of everyone else's songs muddying the composition.
Susan sings it better than I can, and I dig her pipes.