I know
it takes
too long
for the
cool part
to come. I know
it feels scary
and protracted. But
trust me, some-
body's
got to
do it—because I think,
invariably, it's like:
each little voice,
(pretty but meek)
is sort of predestined
to meet and marry
and mimic
a specific partner—
and this melding
keeps happening
over and again
until eventually,
we no longer
know whether
the whole group
is singing
one guy's idea,
or whether
each person
just happens
to be singing the same
inevitable vocal line.
One thing's
for sure, though—
revolutions
are never personal.
There's no solo singers—
and they're never over
in under four
minutes (including
intros and outros).
These sorts of refrains
are less popular
than they are
outright contagious.
Outrage is cheap.
Breathing free is costly;
they're infectious—but
like poliovirus,
not like some
catchy-enough
cough of a
pop song.