What if a Bob Dylan-Type Troubadour Wrote a Protest Song About Listicles?
Why not? Stranger things can and do happen every single day
A man in his mid-20s takes the stage, acoustic guitar strapped on like a cordless power tool to let everyone know he means business.
He’s dressed like some kind of vagabond folksinger from the late 1960s. With deliberate intent, he slightly adjusts the stool awaiting him and then sits down under the lights, placing his motorcycle boots on the stool’s lowest crossbar.
His soft brown hair is long and curly, but not too long and not too curly. He has the barest wisp of a beard, more like facial hair waiting in the wings than tangible whiskers. He wears a blue denim jacket and black denim pants. He looks serious, a man intent on correcting a pressing injustice.
The crowd holds its collective breath for this highly touted up-and-coming singing sensation, Matthew Festus.
As he begins to strum, many in the audience find themselves thinking of Bob Dylan, perhaps the greatest singer-songwriter of the last six decades.
And when the man begins to bellow out his mighty words, they immediately recognize the Dylan influence. Still, he’s no Dylan. His voice is not as commanding, and his lyrics are like a junior college bench player at bat against a Cy Young winner when compared to Dylan’s words of wisdom.
But still, this compelling character has something to say, so the audience listens to his every word, hoping to decipher the riddle of time’s inscrutable mysteries through his words and music.
Soon, young Matt Festus is crying out to the universe with his lyrical lament as his hands move about his guitar and he delivers a fresh, new song with poise, passion, and a purpose that animates his very soul.
Listicle Lament
Oh Listicle, your numbers are your armor They give you a mighty edge in the clickbait fight For if you give your readers many lists of 1 through 5 Those numbers keep them clicking through the night
Oh Listicle your certainty is daunting When you promise that you have the best Top 10 How can a self-proclaimed old-school essayist Compete with the power of your formulaic pen?
Well we click on stories we think will uplift us And we click on doom news headlines of the day But Listicle boils it down to a strict structure Until all that’s left to see is what the numbers say
Now Listicle please don’t think that I’m just bitter I understand the human need to rank and rate But does it help to make complex things so simplistic, And is it worth changing how we communicate?
So if you must list hierarchies of imagination As if the act of separation holds the golden key Fill out your all your lists as far as they will go But be sure to leave some lines blank just for me
Yeah, be sure to leave the last line blank for me.
Thunderous applause. Hearts aflutter. Emotional overload on every circuit.
The critics swoon. Here is someone who gets it, someone really standing up to the tyranny of listicles!
The scribes rush feverishly to blog about his paradigm-shifting talent. Eager readers bubble over with enthusiasm as they click on enticing headlines:
- Originality Matters — 5 Ways to Be More Like Matt Festus
- Why Matt Festus is Already One of the Top 7 Performers of All Time
- 10 Reasons Seeing Matt Festus in Concert Will Change Your Life
Back in his double-wide trailer on the outskirts of town, Matt Festus reads the reviews of his performance on his mobile device. He is both flattered and flabbergasted. They love him, these social media influencers, but why are they engaging in the very behavior he laments as they hurry to praise him? Is this by design, he wonders, or just another unconscious consequence of our listicle-minded age?
Quickly, before the moment passes, he grabs his trusty №2 pencil and the yellow legal pad on the nightstand beside his bed. With the inspiration swelling inside him in dire need of an escape hatch, he begins to scrawl out words he’s already singing in the silence of his mind:
When they asked me for a reason I answered with a rhyme But this did not impress them They said do it four more times …
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(With Apologies to Bob Dylan) © Darren Richardson 2021. All rights reserved.
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