8 Days To Dudes: "Hallelujah, I Was Wrong"

“Hallelujah, I Was Wrong” once had a twin called “Hallelujah, It’s A Girl.” The latter was a letter of encouragement to my first wife when I once thought she was pregnant. The former, a different lyric set to the exact same melody and music, was a missive of comfort in case she was not. If ever more flagrant musical opportunism has bared its ugly teeth, I am unaware of it. (As I write, a long and luminous bolt of lightning is approaching me from a great height.)

"Hallelujah, It's A Girl" Demo, 2005


"Hallelujah, I Was Wrong" Demo, 2005


I am finishing this in Valencia, Spain. For the past three days I have been enjoying the multiple entertainments that arise from encounters between an American who speaks little Spanish and Spaniards with no interest in speaking English. Spanish appears to be a much more contextual language than English; multiple meanings can be derived from very similar grammatical applications with the most subtle variations. The devil is in the delivery. Sometimes seemingly identical phrases may only be differentiated by whether or not they are delivered with a raised eyebrow, or a shaken head, or a shrug. Viva!

I appreciate this. Songs can also mean entirely different things on different nights. So can proclamations of love, expressions of affection, firings of missiles and cries of infants. Some people say that the greatest thing we have going for us is our ability to adapt to new situations. I would not disagree, but would add that our inclination to interpret things in a unique fashion is also an essential, if underrated, survival skill. None of us see things in quite the same way. It takes different strokes to move the world, baby.

¿Qué estoy hablando? I don’t know, Pedro, you lost me at ‘missiles.’